


Preludes

by KameTerra



Series: Bound-verse [3]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Romance, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 62,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KameTerra/pseuds/KameTerra
Summary: Raphael and April had never spent much time together… but as their newfound friendship deepens, both are unprepared for what it brings. Prequel to "Bound." 2003/2007 verse blend.





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that although this is a prequel to Bound, it stands very well on its own. You do not need to have read any other stories in this series to understand it. As in all of my stories, concrit is welcome and appreciated.  
> ~KT

* * *

"Hey Raph," April greeted him through the open window.

"Hey," the turtle returned easily, his eyes scanning the apartment behind her. "Casey around?"

"'Fraid not," April said with a shake of her head. "He called to say the night guy was sick, so he volunteered to fill in. Why, did you guys have plans or something?"

"Nah, not really," Raphael said. "I was just in the area; thought I'd stop by."

"Ah. Well, sorry. I'll let him know you came by, though.

"Thanks," Raphael said with a nod, and he turned to leave.

"Unless…"

He paused, and turned to look at her.

"…you wanted to come in anyway?" She shrugged. "I mean, not that I'm doing anything terribly interesting. Just kind of killing time. But you're welcome to hang here if you want a change of scenery."

The moment the offer was out, Raph had a casual refusal on his lips, but something about the look on her face made him reconsider. Casey didn't talk much about it, not explicitly, anyway, but Raph knew there had been trouble in paradise lately. And maybe he was imagining things, but April seemed…well, she seemed like maybe she could use some company. She was his friend, too, after all. He raised his shoulders in a gesture of indifference. "Sure, why not. Ain't like I got anything pressing to get home to."

April smiled somewhat wanly, and stopped back from the window. "Good enough. Come on in, and help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

Raph needed no second invitation on that one.  _L_ e _ast I'll get a free beer out of it,_ he thought.

* * *

  
"All these channels, and nothing on," April said, tossing the remote on the couch in exasperation.

Raphael popped another chip in his mouth— _real_  ones, not that healthy shit Leo brought back from the last grocery run—then he brushed the crumbs off his hands before snatching the remote. "Whatever, you're just not stopping on the right stuff." He went back to the guide channel and paged up rapidly until he saw what he wanted. The theme song was still playing when the station came on.

_BAD BOYS BAD BOYS, WHATCHA GONNA DO? WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN THEY COME FOR YOU?_

April raised her eyebrows. "Cops? That's what you consider quality programming?" Then she cast him a sidelong glance, and said, "On second thought, I guess it shouldn't surprise me."

"Not  _just_ Cops…Cops in HD." He grinned at her. "Ain't Jerry Springer, but it'll do."

She rolled her eyes. "I've never understood what was so entertaining about this crap. I'm already sick of it, and it hasn't even started."

"Well see, that's your problem right there," Raph said, jabbing a finger in the air to emphasize his point. "You gotta give it more time—kind of an acquired taste." He purposely ignored her grimace. "An' lucky for you, you'll have plenty of time. Looks like they're doin' a marathon."

"Ugh. I think I'm going to have a beer after all."

Raph grinned at her again. "Now you're gettin' the idea."

* * *

  
"Wha—why did she even  _bother_  trying to get away with it? Even  _I_ can tell she's coked out on something, there's no way a  _cop_  wouldn't notice!"

Raphael looked over at her, one side of his mouth quirked up in amusement.  
"Wait, it gets better. They're gonna find drugs in the car, an' the chick's gonna claim she has no idea how they got there."

April glanced at him, but didn't comment further, watching silently as exactly what Raph had predicted unfolded on screen. Shortly afterward, the woman was taken away in handcuffs, still protesting.

"You've seen this one before, huh?" she said at last.

Raphael grinned. "Nope, but it don't take long to get the idea. You'll see."

She sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that." Then she took another swig of beer.

* * *

  
"Okay, lay it down. Whatcha got?"

She studied the screen intently for another moment, assessing the situation. "Meth," she said finally. "And he's got more stowed… in the glove box." She paused, then added, "And he doesn't have a driver's license." She glanced over at him. "You?"

"Not bad," he said. "I'll second you on the meth, but there's somethin' else mixin' it up. Prob'ly booze. Open container in front, I'll bet. He'll blame that one on the passenger—as if that makes it any less illegal."

April nodded. "That it?"

"Yep. Same wager?"

"You got it," she said, rubbing her hands eagerly. "I've got a good feeling about this one."

They both watched the drama unfold, and after a few minutes, April gave a jubilant whoop. "In the glove box, what'd I tell you!"

Raphael scowled. "I still say he's been hittin' the bottle—way to slurred for pure meth."

"Still, no open container—and there! No driver's license OR registration! That's two out of three! I win!" she crowed, slamming her beer bottle down on the coffee table.

"You sure you ain't watched this show before?" Raph asked with raised eye ridges. She shook her head, eyes sparkling with victory, and he decided the smile on her face was well worth the loss. "I think you missed your calling—ever think of goin' into law enforcement?"

This time it was her turn to laugh. "I can barely stand watching this stuff on TV! There's no way I could deal with people like this on a daily basis."

He shrugged. "Well, you gotta admit, it'd sure make you feel smarter bein' surrounded by idiots all the time."

April turned to him with a smirk. "What do you think I hang around you guys for?"

* * *

  
"Ah jeezus. Please, no, anything but this."

"Oh quit whining, a bet's a bet. I beat you at Cops; now it's my turn to pick the show."

"Gee, look at the time—I should really be gettin' back…" Then he ducked just in time to dodge the plush pillow she threw at him.

"No way. I sat through over two hours of your show, and now it's payback. Besides, Sex and the City is not that bad. Drama, comedy…boobs…"

"…well, I guess I can hang out a  _bit_ longer. But I'm definitely gonna need another beer."

* * *

  
"Hey, thanks for keeping me company." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had fun tonight, in a weird way."

"Yeah…um, me too. And uh, thanks for the drinks."

"Anytime," she said with a smile.

Raphael couldn't help smiling back. He'd been surprised by how quickly the night had passed, and even more surprised by how disappointed he'd been upon realizing how late it was. "Well, uh, good night, then. Guess I'll see ya round."

"Sure," she said brightly. "Maybe next time there's a Cops marathon on, I'll give you a call."

He studied her eyes seriously, and finally forced a smile. "Deal," he said quietly.

* * *

  
He didn't really think she'd call. To be honest, he'd passed it off as one of those things people said with no intention of ever following through. So he was rather taken aback when she mentioned it next time he was over hangin' out with Casey.

"Ready for a rematch this week?" April said as she walked past them into the kitchen. He and Casey were watching a fight on TV, and April had been working on her computer in the spare room they had set up as something like an office.

Raph barely registered the question, assuming she was talking to Casey. Apparently, and unsurprisingly, Casey wasn't paying attention either.

"Raph. Did you hear me?"

"What?" he said, snapping his head around to look at her.

"I said, are you ready for a rematch?" He must have looked blank, because after a short pause she said, "You know, for Cops?"

He looked back at the TV in confusion. "Um…"

"Not right now!" she said, correctly interpreting his confusion. "I mean later on this week. Thought maybe we could hang out."

He was still slightly confused, until he remembered that Casey had mentioned in passing that he was planning on picking up more night shifts. Apparently the guy who'd called in last week had been getting really flaky, and Casey was eager for the extra cash. April was probably just looking to pass the time while he was gone.

"Um…I could, I guess," Raphael stuttered, throwing a questioning glance at Casey. His buddy merely gave an impartial shrug that clearly told Raph he was on his own on this one.

April didn't miss his hesitation. "Oh, hey, if you don't want to, that's cool. No pressure. I was just—,"

"No, no, it ain't that!" he interjected, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "I was just, um, I'll have to find out if Leo's got any training runs planned for this week, that's all. Make sure I'm in the clear."

April scanned his eyes briefly, and nodded. "Okay. I mean, either way is fine. Just give me a call if you're up for it sometime, and we'll work it out."

Raph knew she was putting the ball in his court so he'd have an "out" in case he just didn't know how to refuse her invitation. "Sounds good," he said.

She flashed him a smile. "Great. Well, enjoy the fight."

"Thanks," he and Casey muttered together, both of them glued to the TV once more. But for some reason, after she left, Raph had trouble getting back into the match. Maybe it was because the fighters were getting sluggish, grappling feebly, both lacking the stamina to turn on the burst of energy that might turn the fight around. That had to be it. Maybe the next fight would be better.

"Goddamn heavyweights," Casey grumbled in disgust.

Raphael chuffed in agreement as the ref reset the match yet again, bringing the two fighters back to the center to square off. Then he said, "I think I will. Come over to hang out with April, I mean. If that's cool." He glanced sideways out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his friend's reaction. Not that he thought Casey would have a problem with it under normal circumstances, it was just that right now, with things still so shaky between April and Casey, he was trying to be extra cautious.

"Knock yourself out, man," Casey said casually, and it seemed an honest reply. "Jus' don't drink all my beer," he warned, "an' believe me you're gonna be tempted, if you let  _her_  pick the TV show."

-=-=-=-=-


	2. Beer and Pizza Rolls

He didn't think anything of it at the time.

As promised, Raphael had called April to let her know what nights he was free for a rematch. She hadn't mentioned including his brothers, and it hadn't occurred to him to ask.

But now, heading over to Casey and April's place solo, he was starting to second-guess himself. It was usually Donny who hung out with her one-on-one, and playing the conversation back in his head, he couldn't help thinking that maybe when she'd said "why don't you come over Thursday," she'd meant "you" in the plural sense, and not "you" as in Raphael exclusively. The last time they'd hung out alone had been kind of a fluke, a spur-of-the-moment thing. Probably she'd just  _assumed_  he'd know his brothers were invited this time…

And when she asked where the others were, he was gonna look like a complete asshole.

He slowed as he descended the fire escape, nervously wondering if he should call his brothers now and invite them, but if he did there'd be no covering that fact that it was an afterthought, which might make him look like an even  _more_ of an asshole—'specially with a brother like Mikey, who was bound to ask a million questions. Raphael fidgeted slightly as he looked downward at the window of the apartment, but after a minute's hesitation he heaved a resigned breath and hopped lightly down to the landing. He couldn't keep her waiting forever, and it seemed safer to risk ridicule from April than from Michelangelo—after all, his brother he had to  _live_  with.

Raph paused, feeling unaccountably nervous, and then rapped gently on the window. Even though she was expecting him, they'd all learned the hard way that April was much more… reasonable if they knocked.  _Calm down, it's just April_ , he told himself as he watched her approach, but still he held is breath when she raised the window. At once and a wave of warmth and delicious smells wafted out onto the fire escape.

April met his eyes, smiling widely. "Hey, great timing—I just took the pizza rolls out of the oven. C'mon in!" Then she turned and headed back to the kitchen.

Raph finally let out his breath, and with the released air fled the last of his unfounded uneasiness.

Her eyes hadn't so much as glanced behind him—not even for a second. And even though he didn't think it really  _meant_  anything, it was nice to know that he was enough, just by himself.

* * *

  
"Eight…nine… ugh, I can't watch anymore," April said, scrunching her eyes shut.

Raphael popped several more pizza rolls in his mouth, holding up three fingers to keep track, and when she finally opened her eyes, Raph grinned and began chewing.

"Gross," she said with a shake of her head. COPS was on the TV, but in light of current events, it had temporarily faded into the background.

"Hey, that's nothing," Raph defended with a spray of crumbs. He chewed some more and finally swallowed. "Mike did eighteen once, even if he did puke afterward." Then he grinned and washed everything down with a few swallows of beer.

"See, that's the thing I don't get—why is that even something you'd try and  _do_? Who can fit the most pizza rolls in their mouth at once? Who cares! What's the  _point_?"

Raph shrugged. "It's fun?" he ventured.

"Eating until you puke is  _fun_?"

"Well no, not if you're the one doing the puking." He grinned. "But for everyone else it is."

April rolled her eyes skyward and gave a sigh.

"Well come on, don't knock it til you've tried it. Let's see how many  _you_  can do."

"I am  _not_  shoving pizza rolls in my mouth til I puke! Besides, I'd say you have an unfair advantage."

"Okay," the turtle conceded. He was already guessing her tiny mouth could only fit four to five pizza rolls, at most. Pathetic. No contest. "Let's pick something else, then."

She eyed him speculatively. "Like what?"

"Somethin' neither of us has an advantage with. Like…" he scanned around the room, and his eyes caught on the remains of his beer on the end table. "Like somethin' that ain't affected by how big your mouth is," he said, snatching up the bottle and holding it up.

April's eyes narrowed slightly. "What, who can drink the most beer? Come on—your stomach  _must_  be bigger."

"Not with all those pizza rolls I just ate," he said, but she shook her head.

"No way! Then you'll be puking all over my apartment!"

He thought for a moment. "Well let's make it a speed contest, then—who can drink, say, one bottle of beer the fastest."

"Ugh, I still might puke…"

"Oh come on, ya big chicken. What, afraid you're gonna  _lose_?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's it, I'm  _so afraid_  I'll lose face when I can't guzzle beer as fast as you. Oh, how will I ever live it down?" she said in a mock despair.

"Look, if you win, we can watch more of that show you like," Raph coaxed.

April raised an eyebrow. "Sex and the City?" she asked suspiciously. "What about if you win?"

He wasn't going to win—truth was, she'd kinda gotten him hooked on the show. But damned if he was gonna come out and suggest they continue watching it. "If I win, then you gotta see how many pizza rolls you can shove in your mouth." Sounded entertaining, even if it wasn't gonna happen.

"Oookay," April agreed slowly. "You're on." She got up to get two fresh bottles, sat down next to him on the couch, and handed him one. She held up her bottle in a toast. "To friendly competition," she said, and Raph obligingly clacked the neck of his bottle against hers.

"Count of three. Ready?" he asked.

April licked her lips slightly, and nodded.

"One... two…three!"

Both of them tipped their bottles back, but Raph spluttered on the first sip. "This is  _warm_!" he gasped, but April didn't pause in her drinking, her throat working steadily even as she tried not to smile.

_Dirty trick_ , he fumed inwardly, but he didn't have time to do more than glower at her. So much for letting her win—she was already half done. Damn. Raphael chugged steadily, but he was still several swallows away when she drained the last of her bottle and slammed it down on the table. And she was pretty damn fast—woulda given him a run for his money even without a head start—but that wasn't what surprised him most. She'd fucking shotgunned the damn thing, finished it all in one go!

Raph finished seconds after her, and when he'd caught his breath, he turned to her and said, "You fucking cheat worse than Mikey!"

"Who, me?" April said with feigned innocence.

"A  _warm_  beer?  _Really?_ " he fumed.

"What? You never specified they had to be cold."

He reached out and grabbed her bottle, which was still quite cool to the touch. In fact, he was surprised he hadn't noticed his bottle wasn't cold when she gave it to him. "Well  _yours_  seems cold enough."

"Of course. Who wants to drink warm beer," she said, crinkling her nose slightly.

Raph almost laughed then, but remembered in time the he was mad at her, and schooled his face into an angry frown. "You're a shark, anyway—where'd you learn to chug beer like that?" he asked, thinking of the usual dainty sips she took.

April belched loudly. "College. Where else?"

"Goddamn it," Raph muttered. Sure, losing sounded okay when it was his choice, but this was just unfair! Then he glanced over at her, and April smiled broadly, her eyes dancing. He couldn't help it—he broke into a reluctant smile, and she saw it and started laughing. "Fuck. You got me," he conceded, shaking his head in grudging admiration. "You are one cunning broad."

"I hang out with a bunch of ninjas. What do you expect?"

"Well maybe you should hang out with  _Leo_  some more, cuz I can guarantee that wouldn't be his idea of fair play."

"Maybe not, but Leo wouldn't challenge me to a beer chugging competition, either. And, he wouldn't have underestimated me so easily." She lifted her chin just a little, a flush on her cheeks and a challenge in her eyes.

He met her gaze, and just for a moment his breath caught in his throat. Disconcerted, he looked away, his heart pounding strangely, but he shrugged it off, telling himself it was just the beer catching up with him. He wasn't a heavy drinker, in spite of his fondness for the stuff. He looked at her again, and nodded. "You're right. An' next time, I won't either."

-=-=-=-=-=-


	3. Tears and Advice

The next time they had plans to hang out, Raphael knew as soon as he saw her that something was wrong. She was upset—or had been recently—and it wasn't too hard to guess why.

"Hey Raph," she greeted him, but her smile lacked its usual brightness, and her eyes looked slightly red.

"Hey," he answered, trying his best to act normal even though he felt incredibly uncomfortable. He knew something of the problems they'd been having, but Casey hadn't gone into detail, and Raph preferred it that way. Last thing he wanted to do was get in the middle.

"Can I get you anything?" April offered. "Beer? Soda? I'm not really hungry myself, but if you want I could throw a pizza in the oven."

"Uh, just a soda's fine." He observed her discreetly as she fetched him a drink, but when she handed it to him, he didn't open it right away. Instead he just stood there holding it. "Look…" he said hesitantly, "If you'd rather, uh, do this another time, it's no sweat."

April glanced up at him, but even that brief moment of eye contact told him more than he wanted to know. She looked down again almost immediately, blinking rapidly and obviously struggling to compose herself.

If Raph was uncomfortable before, he was positively horrified now. He hadn't meant to make her  _cry,_ for chrissake. "Christ, I'm—fuck. I didn't mean ta—"

She shook her head, wiping her eyes with her hands, and drew a steadying breath before looking up at him. "No, no, it's okay." She wiped her eyes again with the heel of her hand. "I'm sorry, it's… I'm sorry." She sniffed, and smiled bravely at him. "I'm usually not like this, I must be totally hormonal right now. I'd really like you to stay, if I haven't completely scared you off by now."

"I don't scare that easy," he replied, but it was a bald-faced lie. Having three brothers, he'd had to put up with a lot of shit over the years, but he'd never had to deal with something like  _this._ No one in his family tended to burst into tears at the drop of a hat; he had no fuckin' idea how to react. Maybe he should've, like, tried to comfort her or something. But she seemed okay now…

April smiled again, somewhat knowingly, he thought, but at least it seemed more genuine that it had when he'd first gotten here. "Maybe we could just watch a movie or something tonight," she suggested.

"Sounds good," Raph agreed, vastly relieved. Seemed safer that way. Hopefully he could manage the next three hours without making her cry again.

"Good," April smiled. "You pick the movie, I'll make the popcorn."

* * *

  
Later, back at the lair, Raph wasn't at all surprised to get a call from Casey.

"Yeah," Raph answered as he snapped his phone open.

" _Hey man. I'm on my break. …You at home?_ "

"Yup. Just got back from your place a little while ago," he said in a neutral tone.

There was silence on the line then, but Raph just waited.

" _So April… was she, uh, okay?"_

Raphael was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "She seemed pretty upset, man. She didn't, like, unload on me or anything. Didn't really say anything about it at all. But she was… pretty upset."

There was a sigh from the other end, and then a muttered curse.  _"I screwed up,"_  Casey muttered.  _"Ain't like it's only my fault, or nothin', but lately I just… we just… seem to say all the wrong things to each other. An' by the time I think a' the_ _right_ _things, it's too late. Ya know?"_

"Yeah. I know," Raph said. How many times had he gotten into stupid fights with his brothers, and wished later he could take it all back? And the mere fact that Casey was explaining all this spoke volumes about how bad he felt—this kind of soul-bearing was rare for both of them.

Casey sighed again, and Raph knew the sound so well, he could picture the gesture that went along with it, his friend running a hand through his unruly hair as he paced.  _"I don't know what to do. What the hell do I do?"_  he asked softly.

It was a complex question. Too complex—he was sure Casey wasn't just referring to the immediate situation, and he was equally sure his friend didn't really expect him to answer. But unbidden came the memory of April's face when she'd met his eyes shortly before breaking down in tears, the pain etched across her features, the uncertainty in her eyes, and the way his own heart had constricted at seeing it. Regardless of who was at fault, he couldn't stand to think of her hurting like that.

It wasn't a solution; he knew that. But he said it anyway.

"Buy her flowers, man. Nice ones."

-=-=-=-=-=-


	4. Nothing Weird

"You goin' out again?" Mike asked as Raph was making his way toward the exit.

Raphael tensed, and then immediately forced himself to relax, hoping his brother didn't notice. "Yeah. Headin' over to Casey's," he answered in a carefully offhand way.

"Cool. Have fun," Mikey said, and Raph breathed a sigh of relief when his brother continued toward the half-pipe.

Technically, what he'd said was true. He  _was_  going to Casey's, and if that lead others to make assumptions about who he was spending his time with, it wasn't  _his_  fault… but his stomach flipped all the same.

It wasn't like he'd planned to keep things from his family—at first, if someone had asked him where he was going when he headed out, he'd said "Casey's" out of reflex, the same way Don would've said "April's" just because that's who he primarily spent his time with. But now Raph couldn't deny that he chose the wording deliberately, knowing that his brothers were less likely to want to tag along if they thought he was hanging out with Casey. And he didn't quite know why he cared so much, except that…well… it was different with April, just the two of them, and he had to admit he sorta liked it.

He liked to think that April felt the same way, because as far as he knew, she'd never told anyone else, either—except Casey, of course. And Casey was totally fine with it! So really, why should it matter if he never happened to mention it to the others? It wasn't like he was required to fill them in on every little thing he did in his free time.

It was completely innocent, after all.

* * *

  
April was on the phone when he arrived, but she waved him in, shrugging apologetically and then holding up five fingers to let him know she'd be a few minutes.

Since it seemed he was on his own for a bit, Raph headed straight for the refrigerator. As he was perusing the contents, he could hear bits and pieces of April's conversation, fading in and out as she paced up and down the hallway.

"Look, if you like him, just  _call_  him. What's the worst that can happen?" Pause. "Well if he's really put off by you making the first move, he's probably not worth it anyway…" Her voice faded again for a minute when she reached the far end of the hall, and then grew louder again. "…Whatever you feel comfortable with. No. No, I—I don't think it matters how many days you wait.  _Too needy?_  Robyn, you barely know each other! I don't think that's…"

Raph finished selecting a beverage, and moved on to the cupboard to check out the snack options. By the sound of April's voice on her next pass, the last of her patience was evaporating quickly.

"If he doesn't answer, just leave a voice mail. No, don't—why would you just hang up? If he has caller ID, he'll eventually figure out it was you, anyway." Pause. "Robyn, you do  _not_  sound like a man on voice mail. No. In all the times you've left me messages, I've never once thought, 'who is this man pretending to be my sister?'" Another pause. "Then just keep it simple! Identify yourself, and ask him to call you back! It's not that hard."

Rummaging through the cupboard, Raph eventually selected some chips, and headed over to the couch. He flipped the TV on, but kept the volume low out of courtesy while April was still on the phone.

"Look, sis, just  _call_  him. It doesn't make you desperate or clingy, it makes you outgoing and self-assured. I really have to go now, but let me know how it goes, okay? No! You're not boring me," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically at Raph as she walked by. "I just have company over." She veered into the kitchen, leaning against the table and tapping her foot restlessly. "It's Raphael. Right, Casey's friend, but technically he's a mutual friend. I knew Raph and his brothers before I knew Casey."

Raph could hear the conversation, but he wasn't really  _listening_  up until he heard his own name.

"Well we've been hanging out more lately," she continued after a pause. Then April rolled her eyes once again, and said, "Of  _course_  Casey knows about it. And just what are you suggesting?" Pause. "Yeah. No. Yeah, he's fine with it! …No.  _No_. Robyn, I'm sure." Then she laughed, and turned aside a little so her face was hidden. "Well for one thing, I don't think I'm his type." She laughed again. "No, he's not  _gay_. Just trust me—if you met him, you'd understand."

April continued talking, but Raph was too jolted by what he'd overheard to pay any further attention. April's sister thought they were… what? Messing around behind Casey's back? Jeezus. It was ridiculous! No, scratch that—April's response was better—it was  _laughable_. Of course, he supposed to someone who didn't know the full situation, it might seem fishy, but seriously.

Raph snorted and shook his head, trying his best to put the whole scenario out of his mind. He turned his attention to the TV and popped a few chips in his mouth, and though moments ago it seemed like they'd hit the spot, now they just seemed dry and tasteless. He grimaced and pushed the bag aside, instead going for the can of soda and taking a long drink.

_Well for one thing, I don't think I'm his type._

He studied April discreetly while he was drinking. Just what the hell did she think his type was, anyway? Did she think he wasn't attracted to her specifically, or humans in general? He put his drink down and turned his eyes back to the TV, flipping channels slowly without really paying attention to what was on.

_Flip._  Maybe she assumed he and his brothers would only be attracted to females who were turtles, or who at least looked more… reptilian.  _Flip._  But then again, she'd heard Mikey gushing over girls on TV all the time—his brother even had some posters in his room of bikini-clad women, and they didn't look the least bit reptilian.  _Flip._  Still… Raph couldn't remember if  _he'd_  ever expressed interest in women in April's presence. And certainly there was interest, if for no other reason than lack of other options.  _Flip_. Who knew, maybe if there were female mutant turtles walking around, he'd find humans repulsive. Yet in spite of how different they looked from turtles, human women were still undeniably… female. He'd never really broken it down before, but when he thought about it, it wasn't the stuff Casey talked about, the tits and ass, that did it for him so much as the overall form—the softer lines, the delicate curve of a neck, or the taut, slender muscle of a thigh, lithe and powerful…

"Raph? What are you watching?"

Raph started upon hearing her voice so close to him, and realizing he hadn't changed the channel in a while, he hurriedly flipped it. "Uh, nothing," he said, "I was just channel surfing.'

"Oh," April said. "Because for a minute there, it looked like you were really into Project Runway."

"I'm not gay—as you pointed out," he said dryly.

April sighed and shook her head. "That's my sister for you. Always looking for drama. Like it's not possible for members of the opposite sex to just be friends—if they're not sleeping together, one of them  _must_  be gay."

He flipped the channel again, pretending to study the new show while he took this in. April came around the couch and flopped down next to him.

"What? What is it?" she asked after a short stretch of silence.

"Huh? Nothin'."

"Raphael."

He turned to see knowing eyes fixed on his.

"What's wrong?"

He turned away again and fidgeted a little. If he insisted nothing was wrong, she might let it go, even if she knew he was lying. But… something in him had to know. "Do you think, um… I mean… is this, like, weird?" He risked a glance at her, and saw the usually smooth skin of her brow puckered in confusion.

"What, this? Right now? Frankly, yeah, it's a little weird."

"No, not this conversation," he said with a shake of his head. "I mean you 'n me, hangin' out by ourselves all the time."

She searched his eyes. "Why would that be weird? We're friends."

"Yeah but… do you think, um, anyone  _else_  would think it's weird?"

April's eyebrows went up. "Besides my sister?"

"Well… yeah."

"Because if you couldn't tell, my sister's take on relationships is a little… skewed."

"Sure, but—"

"Raph," she said with a tone of authority. "What's this really about?"

His mouth opened, and then closed again.

"…Do I do something?" she asked hesitantly. "That makes you uncomfortable? Because if I do—"

"No!" he said quickly. Then he hesitated. "Well… unless you count that thing you do with your nose."

"That thing I… oh. You mean this?" April said, and she pulled the tip of her nose up with her finger and puffed out her cheeks in a respectable imitation of a pig, enhanced by some rather realistic grunting noises.

"Aaah, stop it!" Raph said, partially shielding his eyes. "You know nose stuff freaks me out!"

She laughed and resumed her normal appearance. "Right. I've gotten used to having  _green_  friends with shells and tails and three fingers, but my nose still weirds you out."

He opened his mouth to counter that, when suddenly it clicked.  _Green friends with shells and tails and three fingers…_  of course. He could be really dense sometimes. Before, when she'd said she wasn't his type, what she'd really meant was he wasn't  _her_  type. She'd just been trying to spare his feelings. They were friends, in the same way he Casey were friends, because she simply wasn't attracted to him.

Suddenly, he felt a lot more relaxed. Nothin' weird about two buds hangin' out.

"Well noses just don't make sense!" Raphael said, smoothly picking up the thread of conversation. "I mean,  _I_  can smell just fine without some random chunk of cartilage sticking out of my face."

"And I can  _swim_  just fine without a shell!" April fired back.

They glared at each other, and then both of them busted out laughing.

"Guess we're both freaks, huh?" Raph said, still grinning.

"I'll go along with that," she answered with a smile. Then she sobered slightly, her eyes searching his. "So, we okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he answered easily, and snatched up the bag of chips he'd set aside earlier.

"Good," she said earnestly. "Because I really like hanging out with you."

At that, he choked a little on the chips he'd just shoved in his mouth. It still took him by surprise when she did that, spoke so easily and directly of what she was feeling without so much as a hint of embarrassment. Raph didn't know if it was a girl thing, or just an April thing, but no one else he knew was quite like that.

"Um, yeah, me too," he rasped when he'd recovered sufficiently from his coughing fit. And he did. It wasn't like hanging out with Casey, where they liked so many of the same things that compromise was rarely necessary, but in spite of the obvious differences in their character, hanging out with April was surprisingly easy. And refreshing, somehow.

She smiled at his response, and after a moment leaned over to shove his shoulder affectionately. "So then, what should we do tonight?"

Raphael scanned around for a moment, and then he plucked up the remote control and tossed it over to her. "Here, you pick," he said.

She caught it neatly, and then looked up at him, one eyebrow raised slightly. "That's it? You're just… giving me the remote? What's the catch?"

"Nothin'," he shrugged. "Feeling generous, I guess."

She eyed him dubiously. "Are you  _sure_?"

"Yeah, go for it."

"Well then…" Her eyes darted over to him once as she pressed the channel button a few times, as if waiting for him to change his mind, and then she stopped on something that looked vaguely familiar. "Project Runway it is."

Raphael groaned dramatically, and then ducked when April threw a pillow at him. He came up grinning. "Hey, easy! I was just kidding!"

"Hope so, 'cause there's more where that came from," she said, holding another pillow up in ready-to-launch position.

Raph held up his hands in surrender. "No, hey, I'm done! I don't wanna be plush-pillowed to death."

"Wise choice—it's not a very 'ninja' way to go," April said as she lowered the pillow. "Anyway, you only have to endure it for a little while, the show's already half over. After that we can change the channel, or think of something else to do."

He agreed, with minimal grumbling, and even that was more for show than because he really cared. Truth was, he was feeling uncharacteristically agreeable at the moment—mellow, even—a state that was usually much more obtainable to him with the aid of alcohol, but he didn't give it any more than a passing thought.

He just sat back and enjoyed the company.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	5. First Blood

"Hey!"

April jumped. "What?"

"I don't believe you! The movie's barely started, and you're already playing with that thing!"

She lowered her phone. "I'm still watching! I just had to check on some things—"

Raph crossed his arms over his plastron. "Oh yeah? If you've been paying such close attention, then what's Rambo's first name?"

She blinked. "Um… Rocky?"

Raphael snorted and yanked her smartphone out of her hand. "That's what I thought. Now we had a deal—last time I helped you clean up an' rearrange the store, so tonight we're watching Rambo."

"But I—"

The turtle's eyes narrowed into a glare, and April sighed in surrender. "Fine," she said, "I'll pay attention, but just one question: what are the rest of my brain cells supposed to do while these two are occupied?"

"Oh puh-lease," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Like you only watch things that are deep and meaningful? Gimme a break."

"No, but I've seen enough bits and pieces of Rambo to know what it's about—the plot's just a flimsy justification for all the mindless slaughter and gore!"

"Well then since you already know all about it, I'm _sure_  you know the first movie is based off a book."

April's brow furrowed. "Well… no."

"And I could be wrong on this one, but it seems like I've heard somewhere that plot is kind of a crucial element for a book. So maybe if you can get through some of the 'mindless slaughter and gore', you'll find it ain't so bad." He had her there, and he knew it—nerds like April and Don seemed to have a greater appreciation for movies if they knew they were books first. And okay, maybe the only reason  _Raph_  knew it was based off of a book was because he'd heard Don say it once, but still…

"Okay, all right," she said. "From now on, Rambo gets my undivided attention."

"That's more like it," Raph said. "I'll just go back to the beginning here… I know you wouldn't want to miss anything." His eyes dared her to argue, and she sat mute and prim while he rewound the disc. The silence didn't last long, though… to the title screen, to be exact.

"First Blood?" April said, her brow knit in confusion. "I thought it was just called 'Rambo.'"

Raph shook his head. "No, the real title of the original is just First Blood."

"Is that the title of the book?"

"Um. Yeah," Raph said. In truth, he had no idea.

"Oh. Then the sequel's called Rambo?"

"Nope. Second one's called 'First Blood, Part Two.'"

April wrinkled her nose a little. "First Blood, Part Two? That doesn't make any sense."

Raph just shrugged.

"Well how many Rambo movies are there?"

"Four."

"What are the titles of the other ones?"

"Um. 'Rambo Three', and uh… 'Rambo,' I think."

"So the  _last_  one is the one called just plain Rambo?"

"Yeah, I think so. An' that one only came out a few years back. Stallone's pretty ripped, for an old dude."

"Oh. So why didn't you ask me if I wanted to watch 'First Blood', since 'Rambo' is actually the fourth movie?"

"Cuz most people just say 'Rambo Four' for the fourth movie. Besides, if I said 'First Blood', you wouldn't a' had any clue what I was talking about."

April smiled. "Exactly. In which case I would've agreed to it much more easily."

* * *

  
Several beers, one bowl of popcorn, and uncounted M&M's later, the credits were rolling, and Raphael sat awaiting her verdict. True to her word, she had paid attention for the rest of the movie, but now that it was over she was strangely silent. And patience was not one of Raphael's strong points.

"Okay, let's hear it," he prompted.

He saw here forehead wrinkle a little in thought as she stared ahead at the TV, and then she turned to him and simply said, "It was… sad."

Raphael studied her eyes briefly, and then nodded.

"I mean, here's this highly skilled combat veteran, the last of his unit… a survivor. And yet when he returns to civilian life, he's treated as little more than a vagrant. A nuisance. Plus he's obviously suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. And yeah, okay, the whole one-man-army thing is pretty entertaining to watch—but even the fighting wasn't what I expected."

"How so?"

"I guess… I expected some sort of a noble cause. Like he'd be trying to save people or something. You know, the usual deal."

Raph nodded again. "You're prob'ly thinking of the second one. Or the third one." He thought for a moment. "Or really, any one but the first one."

"Maybe. But in this one, the only person he was trying to save was himself," she continued. "He was just trying to survive. And all of it was only because some narrow-minded prick took one look at him and decided he was worthless and therefore someone to bully. And then at the end…" April shook her head. "Well it was unexpected, let's just put it that way. The guy takes on an entire town, and when he finally catches the guy who started it all, he spares him and breaks down in tears over his memories of war." She looked over at him, wide-eyed with disbelief. "Rambo.  _Crying_. And I actually felt bad for the guy!"

Raph was smiling now. "Tugged your heart strings a little, huh?"

"Well YES!"

"So you liked it."

"Surprisingly, I did. I mean, it wasn't Oscar-worthy or anything, but I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." She paused there, watching him. "Go ahead. You can say it."

"Say what?"

"You know. 'I told you so.'"

Raph shrugged, but he couldn't completely repress the beginnings of a smug smile. "Wasn't gonna say anything. But maybe you'll remember this next time you're skeptical about something I pick out."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be only too happy to remind me of it yourself," she said with a roll of her eyes. Then she let herself fall backward against the couch, stifling a yawn. "So what next? Are we going to spend our next three get-togethers watching the rest of them?"

"Nah. Unless you really want to. Not a big fan of the others. You know—too much mindless slaughter and gore."

April laughed, and then let her head flop sideways against the couch cushion to look at him with a lopsided smile on her face. "I thought that was a pro in your book."

"You'd think, right?" he said lightly. He plucked up the controller to stop the movie, but he could feel her eyes on him.

She sat forward slowly. "So, what's the real answer?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye without turning his head. "About what?"

"About why you don't care for the rest of the series?"

Raphael grimaced. "They're just… too much." He glanced at her again, and seeing the question on her face, he went on. "In the first one, Rambo's a real guy, yannow? He's good at what he does, but he's got his fair share a' handicaps. Then the other movies, he sorta becomes more like a, a superhero. Superhuman, maybe, and it just ain't the same anymore. Even his  _knife_  is ridiculous by the third one. It's like they'd need kryptonite to stop him." Then he paused and looked at April, and something about the way she was watching him made him feel a bit self-conscious. He fidgeted. "I dunno. I guess I like it better when he's just a guy."

"John Rambo."

"Right. John Rambo," he agreed. And just the way she said the name, he knew she got it. The first name made him human. Without it, he was just another action hero.

When she continued to stare at him, he fidgeted again and said, "What is it? I got something in my teeth?"

"Hmm? No," she said with a quick shake of her head. Strangely, her cheeks had gone slightly pink. "Sorry, I just… you surprise me sometimes, that's all."

He must have looked a bit blank, because she took one glance at his face and began to elaborate.

"I mean, we've know each other for years, and I consider you,  _all_  of you, friends. But lately I get the feeling that I don't know you as well as I thought I did. Like even now, I'm only just scratching the surface."

Raph looked away uncomfortably. "Well just don't scratch too hard. I ain't that deep." When he next dared to look over at her, her eyes were downcast, but there was just a hint of a knowing smile on her lips.

"Okay… then let me ask you something—did Nightwatcher have a first name?"

"What, like 'Raphael Nightwatcher'?" he said with a dry laugh.

"You know what I mean." She looked up at him, and this time he didn't look away.

Yeah. He knew. "No," he said evenly.

"Why not?"

"Because… it was better if people thought they'd need kryptonite."

April raised her eyebrows slightly. "And…?"

Damn, she was good. Master Splinter had nothing on April when it came to intuition. And to his surprise, Raphael found himself answering her. "It was better if…  _I_  believed they'd need kryptonite. I mean, when I was Nightwatcher, I couldn't let myself think too much about what might happen, if I…"  _Got hurt, got killed, exposed what I am and put my family in danger._ "…Messed up. It was just better, safer, if I blocked that stuff out, so I could stay focused. So once I put that armor on, that was it. Raphael might screw up." He gave a humorless laugh. "Hell, Raphael was  _sure_  to screw up—but Nightwatcher was unstoppable."

She was watching his face again in that strange way again, intense and a little… sympathetic, maybe? He was just thinking of changing the subject to something a bit lighter when she said softly, "And yet, it's the Rambo who's 'just a guy' that you identify with."

He didn't really know what to say to that, so he just shrugged.

April held his eyes for another moment, and then smiled faintly. "Well anyway, I'm glad you made me watch this one." She flopped back against the couch again. "And I'm glad you're letting me skip the next three."

"Hey, what're friends for?" He got up to retrieve the movie from the DVD player, and brought the empty beer bottles into the kitchen. "You want me to, like, rinse these or anything?"

"Nah, go on home," she answered, waving him away as she put the popcorn bowl in the sink. "That'll just take a second."

"Okay. See ya next time then, I guess," he said as he made his way over to the window. "And uh, thanks for having me over."

"You're welcome," she smiled. "I'll call you."

He raised the window. "Tell Casey I said hey."

"I will. Oh! Raph, wait!"

He turned and watched as April snatched the DVD off the table and brought it over.

"Can't forget this," she said, holding it out to him.

"Right. Thanks." But when he tried to take it, she held fast. He glanced to her face, and found her green eyes already on him.

"Raphael…" she started, and then she faltered and looked down, her eyelashes throwing long shadows over her cheeks.

His initial confusion turned to something bordering on alarm when she hesitated like that, because April was usually so direct and articulate when she spoke, and if she was having that much saying it, it had to be bad, right? His throat went suddenly dry. "What? What is it?" he managed.

She dragged her eyes up to him, and Raph caught his breath in suspense.

"I… I just wanted you to know… I don't think you're a screw-up," she said, the last part coming out in a rush.

He blinked. "What?"

"Earlier, when you were, um, talking about Nightwatcher? And you said, um, you said Raphael was sure to screw up?" A delicate blush was spreading over her face as she spoke, but she forged on. "I know it's a little late, but… I just feel like I needed to tell you." She paused to take in a measured breath, and this time when she looked him in the eye and repeated the words, she seemed much more relaxed. "I don't think you're a screw-up."

Raph could only stare, and it took him a minute to register that she was probably waiting for some sort of response. Only he was still kind of dumbstruck, so all he said was, "Oh. Okay. Um, thanks."

"Sure," April said softly, and then, realizing she was still holding on to the movie, she abruptly let go and used her newly freed hand to tuck some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She exhaled audibly. "Okay. Well, goodnight then." She glanced up at him once more, and flashed him a tentative but genuine smile.

"G'night," Raphael echoed, but instead of an answering smile, all he managed was an awkward little wave before vaulting out through the window. Once outside, he climbed swiftly up to the roof, and for a moment he just stood there, looking out over the city. Then, he began to run—because he had to do  _something_ …

And because for reasons he couldn't explain and didn't care to analyze, his heart was already pounding.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	6. Contact

It was April who insisted they open Christmas gifts one at a time this year, round robin style. Raphael had no doubt Mikey would have preferred more of a free-for-all so he could tear through his pile all at once—though to his credit, he usually rejoiced loudly over every present, no matter how small. But April claimed it was more meaningful if they watched each gift as it was being opened, and as she and Casey were hosting this year, even Michelangelo had the grace not to argue.

Usually Raph didn't care what procedure was followed—the whole gift exchange tradition mostly seemed like a huge hassle to him. But this year, as he waited for April to get to his present, he sorta wished they were doing Mikey's method. Unlike years past, when he'd just given her something generically pleasing, this year he'd actually put thought into it. And now, every single person in the room was going to be watching her when she opened it, and he wasn't even sure if she'd like it—wasn't entirely sure it would even  _work_. But risky or not, nothing else he'd considered had seemed quite right.

So with the soft white lights from the Christmas tree lending a warmth to the room that had nothing to do with the temperature, they continued around the circle—a pair of warm lounging slippers for Master Splinter from April, several large feathers Raph had pilfered from the zoo for Leo to make into pens, a bag of Don's favorite coffee from Mike… and then April's hand was reaching for  _his_  present, a small flat box wrapped in plain newspaper.

She picked it up and read the name written in black marker on the wrapping. "From Raphael," she announced, favoring him with a smile as she tore the paper.

Raph ducked his head down at first, telling himself he didn't need to watch… but that didn't last long. The suspense was worse when he was staring down at his knee pads. By the time he looked up again she already had the paper off, and was removing the lid from the box. After a moment of studying its contents, April turned puzzled eyes to his.

"A business card for an art gallery?"

"Turn it over," Raph muttered.

She picked the small card up out of the box and flipped it over. Slowly, her expression changed from mild confusion to wide-eyed surprise.

"Well, what is it?" Mikey asked in an impatient tone that clearly said 'hey-can-we-move-this-thing-along'?

"I think it's… it's an Izzero, isn't it?" she said, turning to Raph for confirmation.

"A whattero?" piped Michelangelo.

April waited for Raph's nod before she answered. "It's a drawing—or a sketch, I guess, by this artist, Aldo Izzero. He's initialed it at the bottom," she added, peering in close.

Mike raised one brow ridge. "A sketch… on the back of an old business card? Wow. Awesome. You've really outdone yourself this time, Raphie-boy," he said in a flat voice.

April was still staring down at the card. "It's a sketch of Nightwatcher," she said quietly.

Now Mike was interested. "It is?" he said, getting up to see. April obligingly held out the box for him to look, but the turtle clearly wasn't impressed, and Raph understood why. The sketch was recognizable as Nightwatcher, but it was very simple, and very rough.

"That's not the gift," Raph said, finally catching April's eye. "That card was given to me a while ago as, uh, kind of an exchange. You bring it in to that gallery, and they'll… well I  _think_  you'll be able to, yannow, redeem it. Or something."

"Redeem it?" She furrowed her brow and looked back down at the card, clearly trying hard to make sense of this. But  _someone_  in the room had no trouble reading between the lines of his vague explanation.

"A while ago… as in, two years ago?" Leo said, giving him a shrewd look. "When I was in Costa Rica?"

Raphael didn't answer, but Don looked from Leo's face to Raph's, and his eyes narrowed. "You mean someone gave that to you when you were playing at being Batman. What was it, some sort of, of, payment for services rendered? Raph, you can't give that to her! It's probably stolen!"

"It ain't stolen."

"How do you know! You—"

"I know, cuz I watched him draw it," Raph said, and suddenly all eyes in the room were on him.

April was the first one to speak. "You've  _met_  him?"

"Well, I mean, the name didn't mean anything to me at the time, but I knew he had to be either an artist or a dealer. I helped him recover some, uh, stolen property, an' he drew on the back of that card an' gave it to me. Said I could use it to get in touch with him."

Donatello shook his head. "But that doesn't make any sense. Why would he want you to get in touch with him?"

Raph shrugged. "Because he wanted to hire me."

" _Hire_  you?" Casey said with an amused smirk.

"Yeah. Well, hire Nightwatcher," he amended. "The guys he had guarding his shipments apparently weren't quite as formidable as he'd hoped. So after I helped him out, he said he'd pay me to make sure his future shipments didn't get, um, sidetracked. Course I turned 'im down," Raph said before Leo could voice a protest, "but he gave me that card an' told me to bring it in to the gallery if I changed my mind."

April flipped the card back to the printed side and studied it as she spoke. "I know this gallery, but I didn't know Izzero dealt with them—or with  _any_  gallery. His showings are by invitation only, all sales private. In fact, although it's rumored he lives in New York, even people in the art world don't know that for sure. If I could somehow get an invite to one of his showings…" She looked up at Raph. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

"I don't know if it'll even work," he reminded her.

"A chance is all I need," April said with a look of determination as she carefully put the card away.

Mikey's foot was tapping restlessly by then, eager as he was to get to his next present— which was why Donatello received a particularly dirty look when he spoke up again.

"I still don't think you should risk it," Don said. "If this card links you to Nightwatcher…" He let the sentence hang unfinished, but it wasn't hard to catch his meaning.

"He's got a valid point," Leonardo said slowly. "There's no way to know what kind of message this is, what kind of reception you'd get for bringing it in."

" _If_  the artist even remembers it, and decides to honor it." April said. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take. A contact like this, for my little shop…"

Raph knew what she meant. She was working hard at trying to turn her store around, change it from a place people stumbled into to buy knickknacks, to a place people sought out to find treasures. He knew, and that's why he'd chosen to give her this. It was the best gift he could think to give her, even if it was a long shot.

Donatello, his mouth pressed into a flat line, darted a glance over to Splinter, who had been observing in silence. Raph caught the look and his temper flared—like it was Splinter's job to mediate  _Christmas_? But before he could say anything, April beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize the gifts were up for deliberation this year," she said with a cutting look at Don. "Must've missed the memo."

At least Don had the decency to look contrite. "Look, I'm sorry. I'd just hate to see you get in any trouble over this," he said in a more humble tone.

April sighed. "I know—I know that, and I appreciate it. I'll be careful, but this is  _my_ gift," she said with a glance at Raphael. " _I_  get to decide what to do with it."

"Well then at least let me check into this place a little before you decide to go," Donatello said. "Make sure it's not an obvious front for something else."

To the best of Raph's knowledge, it was legit. He'd scoped it out prior to giving April the card, but it never hurt to let Donnie do his thing, so Raph kept his mouth shut.

"And I'll go with her," Casey said to Don. "Um, if you want," he added quickly at a shrinking look from April.

Raph smiled to himself.  _Nice save, Case-man._  Offering April help was one thing, implying she  _needed_  it was quite another.

But before April could respond to either offer, Michelangelo cut in. "GREAT, well I'm glad we got that all worked out! I'm sure the rest of the details can be finalized later,  _after_  the rest of the presents—which hopefully won't require so much discussion," he said with a roll of his eyes.

April smiled at him. "Go ahead, Mikey. We're done."

Don didn't look completely satisfied, but he kept quiet, and Michelangelo certainly didn't need any additional encouragement. They continued around until the rest of the presents had been opened, and afterwards they all lingered over refills of drinks and second helpings of desserts.  _This_  was the part of Christmas Raph liked—sitting there well fed and pleasantly buzzed, joking with Casey and ragging on Mikey, and adding commentary as Don, April, Leo, and Splinter play a new strategy game of Donatello's.

Though it was quite late when Master Splinter finally rose and said it was time to go home, it still felt like it was too soon.

The leaving was always hard. Leaving meant forsaking the cozy warmth of the apartment for the sobering lash of wind and snow, and a lair that somehow always seemed darker than they'd left it, even after they'd turned all the lights back on.

They said their goodbyes one by one, each in their own way—handshakes, fist bumps, hugs, bows, a kiss on the cheek, a punch on the arm… and then there was nothing left to do but  _go_.

Raphael was gathering with his brothers to exit through the window in the kitchen when April touched him lightly on the arm and said, "Can I talk to you for a second, before you go?"

"Um, sure. Okay."

"Good. Wait here, I'll be right back," she said, and she strode off down the hallway.

Don and Leo shot him curious looks, but Raph just shrugged and said, "Guess I'll catch up." Mikey, who from what Raph could hear was actually  _talking_  to the video game he'd stashed carefully in his backpack, didn't even seem to notice when Raphael stayed behind, and in moments it was just him and Casey left standing awkwardly in the kitchen. Fortunately April didn't keep him waiting long, emerging almost immediately from the bedroom carrying something small.

When she reached the kitchen, she gave Casey a cursory smile and said, "Can you give us a minute?"

Casey's eyebrows shot up, but he just shrugged and said, "Sure thing. I'll just, uh, take the garbage out."

April watched him gather up the trash bag and head out before turning back to Raph. Then she let out a measured breath as she looked down at the box in her hands, and when Raph followed her gaze down he realized it was  _his_  box—the one he'd given her. Then their eyes met.

"Raphael…" she began, "You know how much this means to me—I really, really appreciate it, you know I do. But…"

She looked down again, and Raph's heart sank.  _She's giving it back. She doesn't want it._

"…I feel like I should tell you… I think this could really be worth something. Worth some money, mean." Then she raised her eyes to his again, and studied him for a long moment. "Maybe… a  _lot_  of money."

Okay, not quite what he'd expected. "What, that little scribble?"

"Well I'm not positive," she answered slowly, "But this artist is very exclusive about who he sells to, and very selective about  _what_  he sells. In other words, everything I know of by this guy is a meticulously finished product. I'd be willing to bet a rough sketch is pretty rare… and then of course there's the subject matter. The right buyer might pay a lot of money for this."

He studied her face quietly, noticing for the first time how the sweater she was wearing enhanced the green of her eyes. "Is that what you want to do? Sell it?"

"No," she said without hesitation. "The art may be worth some money, but if I got even  _one_  good contact out of this..." She shook her head and lowered her eyes. "But that wouldn't matter if you… I mean, if you wanted, I'd be happy to check around for you, see if there might be any interested parties."

_If_ _I_ _wanted?_  "What's the point? I mean, unless  _you're_  curious. It's yours; do what you want with it."

"Right, I know… But when you gave it to me, you probably didn't realize it might be of value, and I'd understand—I'd  _more_  than understand—if you… I mean, Raph,  _think_  of what this could mean for you and your family!"

Her eyes were on him, large and pleading, but he already knew the reality was nothing like the fairy tale she was envisioning for him. "I'm thinkin'," he said evenly. "I'm thinking maybe we'd be rich—but we'd still be stuck livin' in the sewers. I'm thinking we could afford the best medical care… long as we didn't set foot in a hospital. I'm thinking we could all quit our grueling nine-to-five jobs and live lives of leisure." He paused, holding her eyes as he waited for the point he was making to sink in. "I ain't sayin' all this to be noble or anything. It's just… money ain't the answer when you live outside the system."

She stared at him, searching his eyes without speaking. Finally she whispered, "Are you  _sure_?" Then she held the box out to him—one last try, one last chance.

Raphael ignored it, and took a step backward. "Merry Christmas," he said softly. Then before she could respond he was out the window and gone, lost in a swirl of falling snow.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	7. Rain Check

"Yeah," Raphael said curtly into his phone. It was his standard greeting when anyone called him, unless it happened to be Master Splinter. According to his sensei, the only proper way to answer the phone was to politely say 'hello' even though thanks to such technological innovations as caller ID, and the fact that only like six people in the whole world even had his number, he always knew who was calling.

" _Hi Raph,"_  came April's voice over the phone.

"Hey. I was just about to head over. What's up?"

There was a soft sight from the other end. " _Actually, I'm glad I caught you before you left. I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I took a rain check for tonight. I'd love to kick back and relax for the evening, but I only just got done with the last of the inventory at the shop, and now I have a stack of bills waiting for me, not to mention tax season is just around the corner. I know it's early, but I like to at last get a start on them now so I don't feel so stressed later."_

"Oh. Uh… yeah, sure, don't worry about it."

" _Thanks,"_  she said, and the relief was clearly audible in her voice.  _"We'll make it up soon, okay?"_

"Sure, no sweat."

" _Great. Have a good night, then."_

"You too. Uh, good luck with the, uh… whaddya call 'em again? Taah… taaaa…?"

" _Very funny,"_  April said, and Raph couldn't help but laugh at the bitterness in her tone. Least there was one benefit to living in the sewers. The only thing he knew about taxes was that they were a major pain in the ass.

" _You should pay_ _me_ _taxes for all the grocery shopping and errands I do for you guys,"_ she continued.

Raphael laughed again. "We do pay you."

"In what, headaches?"

"Nah. We maintain your security system, and keep your neighborhood virtually Foot ninja free, not to mention keepin' you informed on which pizza joints to avoid. You'd be lost without us."

" _You guys_ _don't maintain my security system,_ _Donny_ _does, the Foot wouldn't give a damn about me if it weren't for my history with you, and I have Casey to use as a guinea pig for testing out new food joints. So things are still looking a little skewed from my end."_

"Ah. Yeah… I see your point. Don't got much cash, though. Can I just pay you in sexual favors?" he quipped, expecting a laugh of surprise at the very least.

"Funny, that's exactly what Mikey said," she retorted smoothly.

Caught off guard, it was Raphael who laughed, and April chuckled with him.

" _Bye, Raphael_ ," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice, and he couldn't help but respond with a smile of his own.

It wasn't until after he'd hung up the phone that his smile faded.

* * *

  
"Dude, what is  _with_  you tonight?"

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I just kicked your shell  _three times in a row_ , here," Michelangelo said, gesturing at the TV screen.

Raph looked at the screen, which was still showing the smoldering wreckage of his fighter jet, and then turned back to his brother. "So? Ain't too surprising, as much time as you spend playing this game."

"I know  _that_ ," Mike said with a roll of his eyes. "I am awesome at this game. What's surprising is you haven't punched me yet, or accused me of cheating, or thrown the controller down and stormed off! It's like you're on autopilot, or something, just hitting the buttons. Where's the fire? WHERE HAS ALL THE PASSION GONE?" Mike said, gesturing dramatically. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Are you playing another game behind my back?"

"What?! No! I guess I'm just… I dunno, maybe I'm just tired."

Mikey eyed him dubiously. "Tired, huh?"

Raph merely shrugged, but he knew that wasn't it. He'd just felt a little… weird… ever since April called. Distracted and somehow restless, with an unsettled feeling in his stomach that he couldn't even blame on one of Mike's experimental junk food combinations.

Mikey badgered him into playing a while longer, but when Don came wandering in, Raph convinced his brother to swap out with him and headed to his room. He wasn't tired, exactly… but he settled himself in his hammock anyway and just lay there, staring at the ceiling. At length he took out his shell cell, turning it in his hands indecisively. He shouldn't bother her… she was trying to get work done. Smart thing would be to let her do it, so next time they could hang out and she wouldn't have to worry about it. Exactly, that's exactly what he should do… but he didn't put the phone away.

Then again, he argued with himself, maybe she could  _use_ a break. She hadn't told him not to call, and it wasn't like they had to stay on the phone long… After another minute he squeezed the shell cell tightly in his hand; then he opened the phone, drew a deep breath, and hit the speed dial before he could talk himself out of it.

When April answered, the knot in his stomach loosened, and he eased out the breath he'd been holding.

"Hey. Sorry ta bother you, just thought I'd see how things were comin'."

" _It's no bother. Actually, you have good timing,"_  she said.  _"I was just going to get up and make myself some tea before I get back to work. I got the bills paid, but I at least want to get a start on the taxes before I quit. Even if all I do is download the forms and get everything organized and in one place, I'll still feel like I accomplished something. So what've you been up to tonight?"_

He could hear noises in the background as she talked, cabinets banging, water running, and he could picture her in the kitchen filling the old ceramic kettle she favored, even though Donny had gotten her a new electric one for Christmas. She left that one out on the countertop for easy access, but he'd noticed that she still used the old one when his brothers weren't around.

"I, uh, played some video games with Mikey."

_"Oh, what did you play?"_

"Dogfighters on the GameStation. The new fighter jet one he got for Christmas."

" _Ah. I've never played that one—looks way too complicated. I guess I've always preferred the old school games, the ones you could just hit buttons on and have fun without having to put in hours of practice just to be able to play."_

"Oh yeah? Which ones do you like?"

" _You know, like Mario Brothers, stuff like that. I also like racing games, as long as they're pretty easy to play. And I am the queen of Street Fighter II."_

Raph smiled. "That's funny, cuz I'm actually the  _king_ of Street Fighter II."

" _Is that a challenge?"_  April said over the scream of the kettle.

"Nope. You said yourself you were queen, an' everyone knows the king is more powerful," he said with a smirk.

The kettle silenced abruptly, and he heard a slight gurgling as she poured the water.  _"We'll see about that, shall we? Next time you come over, I'll hook up the old system."_

"Bring it on," he said.

A short while later, he reluctantly let her go to finish her stuff, feeling appreciably better. He wasn't much of a phone talker, normally—of course, he  _lived_  with most of the people he knew, and he and Casey usually only stayed on the phone long enough to make plans or communicate essential information. He was surprised at how easy it was to talk on the phone with April—just as easy as sitting in the room with her, really, and he wondered why he hadn't occurred to him that he didn't always need to  _see_  her to be able to talk to her. Then he grinned to himself, looking forward to their next meeting. Oh, he was going to trounce her at Street Fighter, all right. He knew Casey could beat her easily enough… and  _Raph_  could beat Casey.

And he definitely needed a good win after the whole beer chugging fiasco.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	8. Freaked Out

April had everything ready when Raphael arrived—game system hooked up, and two cushions side by side in front of the TV with a controller stretching to each one. She'd turned the game on once just to make sure it was working, but that was it. They'd both be going into it cold. Then they'd see who the  _real_  Street Fighter champion was…

A light rap on the window signaled his arrival, and April eagerly went to open it, smiling as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Hey, you're right on time! I just finished—" she broke off abruptly, sucking in a breath when her eyes caught on the square of bandage taped to his upper arm—a bandage she could only assume had once been white. "Raph, you're bleeding!"

He followed the path of her eyes to his upper arm, rotating his shoulder a little to get a better look at it. "Oh, yeah," he said, as if he'd forgotten it was there. "Must've stretched it a bit on the way over. It'll be fine." Then he dropped his arm and looked up, grinning as he spied the setup in the other room. "Looks like everything's ready. You that eager to get your ass whooped?"

April gaped at him. "It'll be  _fine?_  You show up here bleeding, and that's all I get is 'it'll be fine'? I mean, were you guys out last night? Did you run into some sort of trouble? Did you—"

"April, relax! It's just a little souvenir from practice, no big deal."

"If it was no big deal you wouldn't be bleeding all over my kitchen!" she yelled, pointing down at a smattering of red droplets on the tile.

He glanced down at the floor, and then put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I'll clean it up! Just tell me where—"

_Seriously?_  Did he seriously think this was about making a mess? "No, Raph, it's not—!" she broke off when she saw the bewilderment on his face, and forced herself to take a deep breath. Even after that she didn't trust herself to speak without yelling, so she wordlessly grabbed a clean kitchen towel out of a drawer and returned to place it over the blood-soaked bandage on his arm. "Hold this," she said, and he obeyed, clamping his other hand over the towel.

"Now come with me." Her tone brooked no argument, and he didn't so much as protest when she led him down the hall to the bathroom. She gestured for him to take a seat on the toilet and retrieved the first aid kit from under the sink, lips pursed as she quickly setting out all the materials she thought she might need before turning back to Raphael. Then she took another calming breath before saying more gently, "Okay, let's have a look."

He removed the towel slowly, eyeing her as if she was some rabid animal as he did so.

"Oh, I'm not going to bite," April snapped, annoyed. She peeled off the old bandage, most of which came away quite easily, saturated as it was. Underneath was a cut close to three inches long, held partially together with short strips of tape. The tape on one end, though, wasn't holding anything anymore, and that was where the new blood was coming from. April wet part of the kitchen towel in the sink. Why not? It was already ruined anyway. Then she peered in close and gently cleared away what she could of the blood without disturbing things too much.

Raphael held still as a rock under her hands, and perhaps because of their close proximity, it struck her that the comparison was appropriate in more ways than one. All of the turtles were in good shape, powerful and well-muscled, and she'd grown so used to the way they looked she hardly thought of it anymore. But up close, touching his arm like this, she was freshly aware of just how  _big_  Raphael was, even compared to his brothers. Even compared to Casey, who was certainly no stranger to the weight room.

She gave herself a mental shake and refocused on the task at hand. A few more dabs with the towel, and she let out a relieved breath and looked up. "It's not too bad," she said.

"Imagine that," Raph muttered under his breath.

"Well it's not exactly a paper cut either!" she fired back, and he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut after that.

April was more than a little tempted to rip the remaining strips of tape off with a quick pull to each. Shouldn't hurt too much on such a  _minor_  wound, right? But instead she forced herself to go slowly and gently, wetting each one to loosen it before easing it away. No sense in causing even more bleeding than there already was. Once she'd pulled away the final bit of tape, she studied the wound again and frowned. "You did have Donny look at this, right?"

"Yeah."

"Hm," she said thoughtfully. "I'm a little surprised he didn't tell you it needed stitches."

Raphael shifted a little, but said nothing.

She studied him suspiciously. "Raphael…"

The turtle's eyes darted up, and he fidgeted again. "He didn't say I  _needed_  them…"

"But he recommended it." This time it wasn't a question. When Raph didn't answer, she shook her head and snorted. "If I had the materials, I'd sew you up myself right now just to punish you for being so, so pigheaded!"

"Hey, you said yourself it ain't that bad!" he defended.

"Well you're not going to  _die_  or anything, but really, taping a cut like this? I mean, I know it's not about the pain, so why in the world wouldn't you just let him do it!?""

"It, uh, it just… it takes too long," he mumbled.

" _So_?"

"So, I would a' been late!"

"Late? Late for what?" she asked, exasperated.

He looked up, meeting her eyes without saying a word.

She stared back at him in confusion for a moment, and then it clicked. "This happened just this evening… before you came over here."

At his nod of confirmation, she pursed her lips and turned away, tucking her hair behind her ears before fishing the bottle of disinfectant out of the first aid kit. The she poured some of the betadine onto a few sterile gauze squares, and proceeded to clean the cut. Only then, when she was sure she could respond calmly, did she speak.

"Raphael, do me a favor?"

He looked up at her to show he was listening.

"Next time, if Donatello recommends some medical treatment, DO IT. Even if it interferes with really important plans, like a Streetfighter II face-off. Okay? I mean, I know I can get pretty competitive, but I promise you, if you called me up and said you were cut open and bleeding and needed stitches, I'd be okay with rescheduling."

"Um. Okay. Sure," he said somewhat sheepishly.

"Good." She went back to his shoulder, which was still bleeding lightly, and dried the skin on either side of the wound thoroughly. Then she picked up a box of butterfly strips and began applying them, pulling the edges of the cut together snugly. She knew even that amount of pressure had to hurt—she'd gotten a tiny cut on her finger last week chopping some vegetables, and that had hurt bad enough—but he didn't so much as flinch while she worked. "This is from a sword?" she asked quietly.

He grunted in a way that sort of sounded like "yeah."

She shook her head. "What ever happened to using blunted practice swords?"

"We do, a lot of the time. But it ain't the same. We gotta practice with the real thing, too—all of us—or it'd show in a real battle."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking, as she applied another strip. What he said made sense. Practice weapons were used for a reason; they  _were_  safer—but the great majority of people who trained with weapons never had cause to use them in a real battle situation. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case with the turtles. Any small error, any slight hesitation or clumsiness in a real fight could have deadly consequences. And yet, she'd seen what Leo's katana could do to an enemy, seen first hand how cleanly the blades cut through muscle and sinew and even bone…

Suddenly her vision darkened a little as she stared at the cut, and her stomach churned sickeningly. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe deeply, regain control, but all she could think of was Leo's blade glinting as it slid across Raphael's shoulder, and how with just a  _bit_  more pressure, there'd be no taping it back together.

"It was Leo you were sparring with?" she asked, her eyes still tightly closed.

"Right in one," he answered.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to open her eyes and apply another butterfly strip, though her hands weren't quite as steady as before. "Well he should be more careful."

Raphael laughed. "He is careful. I still have my arm, don't I?"

She straightened to her full height, slamming the box of butterfly strips down on the sink, and Raph's eyes snapped up in surprise. "That's  _not_  funny!" She glared down at him, her heart pounding… and she knew she was only capable of two actions at the moment. So she yelled some more, in spite of the choking lump threatening to close her throat.

"Here I am, patching up a wound from a  _sword_  for god's sake, and you're  _laughing_  about how much worse it could've been?! I mean, can't you skip the macho guy bit for once and at least  _pretend_  to take this seriously for five whole minutes? I just, I can't, I can't  _take_  this right now!" She hurled the badly crunched box on the floor before turning on heel and storming out of the bathroom.

* * *

_  
Whoa._

For uncounted seconds after she left, that was all that was going through Raphael's head, and it was longer still before he had the presence of mind to close his gaping mouth and go after her. Now he understood the look of fear that sometimes flashed across Casey's face when it was time for him to go home after getting slightly banged up. But anger of this intensity had never been directed at  _him_  before; that glare alone was practically enough to melt him back into a puddle of ooze on the bathroom tile.

He stepped out into the hall, glancing over toward the empty living room before turning the other way, towards her bedroom. As he got closer he heard noise coming from her room, but before he could get all the way there April emerged and started walking toward him, her face hard and her stride purposeful.

"Hey, I—" he started as she drew closer, but she blew right past him with barely a glance, and turned into the room on the other side of the hall that served as an exercise room. Raph followed cautiously, and when he reached the doorway he saw her kneeling next to the treadmill, putting on tennis shoes. Evidently she had already changed into shorts and an old T-shirt while she was in her room. When she was done tying the shoes, she stood and began pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

He stood in the doorway and waited for her to say something, or at least  _look_  at him, and when neither of those things happened he said, "So um… taking a run?" It was a stupid question, but he had no idea what else to say.

"Right in one," she answered tartly without looking at him, and she stepped onto the treadmill and began pressing buttons on the control panel.

Raphael continued to stand there, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach. It seemed like maybe he should just go, let her cool off in her own way—but on the other hand he really didn't want to leave her like this, not before they'd had a chance to talk. For maybe the first time in his life, he understood how his brothers probably felt when he got mad and took off on them without bothering to hear them out first. Thankfully, April saved him from having to make a choice. When she'd finished entering her settings, she sighed loudly and looked over at him.

"I just need ten minutes. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

The last part was clearly a plea, not an order, and he nodded, feeling relieved. "Uh, sure thing. Take your time." He definitely got that, the need to do something physical to blow off steam. He himself probably would've gone for something a little more… violent, but hey. To each their own.

April said nothing more, just put in some earphones, hit a button, and started running. He watched for a minute, studying the way she ran. She looked so intense, with her eyes forward and her mouth firmly set, and in spite of the brisk pace she'd chosen she appeared to be running well within herself. Her strides were quick and even, and he could see the taut line of her belly and the long muscles of her thighs flexing and stretching, flexing and stretching…

Gradually he became aware of a tingling warmth spreading through his body, an unmistakable rush of attraction that made his face flush hot and his mouth go dry, and Raph jerked back out of the doorway and turned to press himself against the wall outside, his heart beating wildly.  _What the fuck?_  He shook his head fiercely and drew a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down. When that didn't work he bolted for the kitchen, scrupulously avoiding looking anywhere but straight ahead as he passed by the doorway.

_It was nothing, just a, a physical reaction_ , he told himself as he walked.  _Hell, I'm so hard up same thing prob'ly woulda happened from watching any random chick out for a jog, long as a little skin was showing._ Yep, that was it. He was a guy; he couldn't help it. Didn't have anything to do with  _her_. And besides, just because they were friends didn't automatically make him oblivious to the fact that she—well, to her appearance…

By the time he got to the refrigerator Raphael had talked himself down enough to feel almost normal, and he knew exactly what he needed to get the rest of the way there. So he grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge, some pretzels out of the cabinet, and, as an afterthought, some spray cleaner from under the sink. He cleaned up the splotches of blood on the kitchen floor before going to sit on the couch, remembering just in time to withdraw his weapons and set them on the coffee table first—April was constantly warning him against poking holes in the couch with his sai, and he didn't need anymore strikes against him tonight.

He flipped on the TV and settled down to wait. She took longer than ten minutes, but not much longer, and before long he heard April coming down the hall. She passed through the living area on her way into the kitchen, still wearing her workout clothes, and got a glass of water before returning and sitting down on the couch next to Raph. He took that for a good sign, that she'd chosen to sit so close to him. Apparently the short run had done her good. She didn't look at him, though. She sat there, barefoot and bare-legged, with strands of hair falling loose from her ponytail, and sipped her water.

He glanced at her face, then held his breath as he looked  _very_  quickly down at her legs… and exhaled in relief. Nothing happened. Well, nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. He risked another glance, a bit longer this time.  _Nope, still nothing. Just legs. A fluke, like I thought._  He relaxed then, content to wait and drink his beer. When April had finished her water, she went back into the kitchen, and he heard the sound of the fridge opening and then the click of a bottle cap being removed. She returned with a beer for herself, and handed him a second one before sitting down again.

"Thanks," Raph said, accepting the cold bottle. He quickly finished the remainder of his first beer and set it aside. Then he looked over at her and said, "Feel better?"

"A little," April answered, staring expressionlessly at her bottle.

He observed her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't seem angry anymore, which was definitely an improvement, but something was still a little… off. "So. You wanna tell me what that was about?" he asked mildly.

She didn't speak right away, taking a slow drink and staring at the bottle some more before saying, "I guess I was just… scared," she said.

Raphael waited.

"I mean, I've long since come to accept that being friends with you guys means living with a certain amount of danger—sometimes a  _lot_  of danger. And I know that means sometimes, you'll get hurt. But in my head, it's always the  _bad_  guys I'm worried about. I guess I never thought… I never really stopped to think that I might have to worry about friendly fire, so to speak, and I just—"

"Freaked out," he finished for her.

"I did not 'freak out', I just overreacted a little."

He looked at her, eye ridges raised.

"…okay, a  _lot_."

More staring, and finally she caved.

April sighed. "I freaked out," she admitted ruefully. Then she raised her eyes to his. "It was bad, huh?"

"Well let's put it this way—you're lucky I was already sitting on a toilet."

She laughed—a short, surprised little sound, but it was a start. Then her eyes drifted from his face to his arm. "How's your arm," she asked, nodding at the wound.

"It's—it hurts a little," he said honestly, only barely stopping himself from giving the standard 'it's fine' reply. It burned, actually, and he knew from many, many experiences that tomorrow it would probably hurt worse, but it was long habit for him to underplay anything that wasn't a serious threat to his health. April wouldn't get that, though. She hadn't grown up like he had, where cuts and bruises and hunger and cold were so much a part of daily life that they hardly deserved mention.

She nodded in response to his answer, but said nothing further about it.

Raphael hesitated, and then said, "It ain't just a… what did you call it? Macho guy thing?"

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Before, in the bathroom, when you said to cut out the joking. It ain't about bein' macho."

This time April leveled a look at  _him_.

"Okay, okay," he conceded, "Maybe that's part of it. But that ain't the main thing. It's also kind of the way we have to do things. To, uh, cope. Sort of."

"Cope?"

"Yeah." He watched her face, hoping for some sign of understanding, but she just looked puzzled. He sighed. Of course she didn't get it, he sucked at explaining things. "Okay, um… you use knives to chop stuff sometimes, right? Vegetables, or whatever?"

She looked at him deadpan. "No, I use toothpicks."

Raph rolled his eyes.  _Right, stupid question_. "Okay, well it's possible to, like, accidentally chop your finger off, right? Doing something as stupid as chopping carrots?"

"I guess".

"But you still do it, right?"

"Of course," she said.

"But why? You could lose a finger."

"Sure, but the risk is small. And unless you're a sucker for a challenge, spoons just don't work as well. But the vegetables don't fight back," she said with a look that clearly meant 'I know where you're going with this.' "And losing the finger is NOT the same as the possibility of losing an arm or a head."

"I know it's not the same," he said seriously. "I know—we  _all_  know." He held her eyes. "But for us, training is just as routine as chopping vegetables. It's part of our lives. And if we sometimes joke about the possible dangers, it ain't because we don't  _understand_  the reality of it, or because we don't believe it could really happen. It's because we  _do_  understand. I've seen Leo cut people up, too," he said gently, and April swallowed visibly and looked down. "I've seen Mike's 'chucks pulverize bone, and Don's bo crack skulls." He paused. "But my brothers and I pick up our weapons every day and train with them. We can't be  _afraid_  of that, any more than you can be afraid of chopping vegetables. Not if we want to live. And that's partly what we're doing when we joke about that stuff—reminding ourselves that the danger is real… but we're not afraid."

He shut up then, the silence hanging heavy between them as he waited for some sort of response, but all April did was stare at her beer bottle. When she did raise her eyes, it wasn't him she looked at—it was his weapons on the coffee table in front of them. Then she deliberately put her bottle aside, and slowly reached toward them.

Raphael stiffened involuntarily—even his brothers didn't touch his weapons without asking first. But before he could decide how to react, April froze and looked over at him, as if sensing his unease. "May I?" she asked, her fingers poised on the brink of touching the metal.

He could tell she was asking to be polite, never thinking that he might say no. Raph hesitated for a mere heartbeat, and then nodded stiffly. It wasn't like he really had a reason to refuse her, but it made him uncomfortable all the same.

She picked up one sai with almost absurd delicacy and began examining it up close, turning it over in her hands and tracing each part as she looked. "What is this, leather?" she asked without looking up as she touched the hilt.

"Leather," he confirmed, and when she peered even closer to study the wrap job, he said, "It ain't all fancy, like the way Leo does it, but he uses silk  _ito_ , which lasts longer. I gotta redo mine pretty frequently, so I just do a basic wrap." He didn't know why he felt the need to defend his choice… why should she care what style of wrap he did? Still, he wasn't used to his personal weapons being the object of such close scrutiny.

"Then why do you use leather, if it doesn't last as long?" she asked quietly.

"I just… like the feel of it better."

This time she turned to meet his eyes, but he couldn't read anything in her expression. "Why?"

Raphael shifted a little. "Um…" Her eyes were fixed on his, curious but undemanding, and though he had no idea why she cared, he answered truthfully. "The leather feels… more friendly," he said. Then he reached out and picked up the other sai, holding the  _tsuka_  in a familiar grip. "It warms quickly, and seems to mold slightly to my grip, and it feels… more like part of  _me_  than a weapon." He flipped his grip in one smooth motion, so the  _tsukagashira,_  the butt of the handle, was facing outward. Then he whirled it almost carelessly and switched his grip again, this time to a defensive hold.

She watched him handle his weapon, and then turned back to continue studying the one she held. Her fingers moved over the slightly curved outer  _yoku_ , and then she ran a couple of fingers all the way down the rounded central  _monouchi_ , finishing at the point.

Raph watched her hands move down the weapon. "If you're gonna handle my shaft like that, I hope you're at least plannin' on buying me dinner later," he quipped.

She looked up and smiled, taking it as a joke—which of course it  _was_ … sort of.  _It's just a weapon—just steel and leather_ ,  _nothin' special about it_ , he told himself. Still, they were so much a part of him it almost felt like she was touching him directly, and he just couldn't seem to will his body to relax. The truth was, part of him wanted to snatch it away from her.

_Jeezus, get a grip Gollum_ , he told himself.  _She ain't gonna hurt it._ April was in a strange mood right now, obviously trying to sort some things out, and though he had no idea why she was suddenly so interested in his sai, he decided to just go along with it.

April had turned back to his sai and tested the point again. Then her eyebrows knit together slightly. "Tranditional sai are blunted at the end, right?"

"Usually," he answered. This time he didn't wait for the follow up question. "I find it a more versatile this way," he said with a shrug.

"And more deadly."

"That too," he admitted. He watched her closely, but she didn't react much, at least outwardly. He was relieved when she switched to a different topic instead of pursuing that line of inquiry.

"Did you guys get to choose your weapons?"

"No. Technically Master Splinter assigned them, but he always insisted he just let the weapons choose  _us_." Raph smiled a little, remembering. "We practiced equally with all the weapons when we were young, and gradually it became clear which ones we were most compatible with."

"So these sai chose you."

"I guess so." And then, without thinking he said, "But I didn't choose them. Not at first."

Her eyes flashed up to his. "You didn't? Well what did you pick?"

Raph returned her gaze evenly. "You know."

She looked down, and ran a finger down the central shaft again. "Katana," she whispered.

"Close enough. I actually would've picked ninjaken, but when my  _honorable_  older brother was assigned swords, of course he went with katana."

"Were you as skilled as he was with blades?"

"Of course not," Raph said with a snort. Even then, he hadn't been that delusional. "But I didn't care. Leo and I both had a picture in our heads of swords as the ultimate badass ninja weapon."

April stared at the weapon she held and said, "Maybe. Or else they're just overcompensation." She extended her hand a couple feet beyond the tip of the sai to demonstrate, and glanced up at him with an impish smile.

Raphael laughed loudly, and April's smile widened into a grin.

"Guess Master Splinter knew what he was doin' after all," Raph said, still smiling.

"I think he did," April said, and she was smiling as well, but her eyes were serious. "I think these weapons suit you, Raphael. They're  _like_ you, somehow."

He looked down at the sai he held, tilting it to watch the shards of light slide along the muted steel, trying to see it as she did. "If you say so," he said with a shrug. When he looked up, he found her eyes already on him.

She looked at him for a long moment, and then held the weapon out to him handle first, cradling it almost reverently in both hands. "Thank you," she said.

He nodded, though he didn't know what she was thanking him for, and accepted the sai. The  _tsuka_  was still warm from her hands. Raphael closed his own hand over the grip, and the tension slowly drained from his muscles.

She drew a deep breath, in then out, and glanced toward the cushions and game controllers at ready in front of the TV. "I'm not exactly in the mood for Street Fighter anymore. Would you mind too much if we did it another time?"

"Sure, whatever you want."

"I guess I owe you dinner, so what if we just order pizza and hang out? Are you hungry?"

"That's not a relevant question when it comes to pizza," Raph said.

"Of course not," she said with a roll of her eyes. "What was I thinking?"

She called in their order, and once she was off the phone she said, "While we're waiting, at least let me put a wrap on your arm. No yelling this time; I promise," she said, correctly interpreting the look on his face. "I just don't want it to pull apart on your way home and start bleeding all over again."

So Raphael allowed himself to be led back into the bathroom, and took a seat on the toilet.  _Total déjà vu_ , he thought, but at least April was back to her usual calm efficiency, no yelling or throwing things this time.

She took another look at the wound again before she did anything else. "There's some dried blood gunked up on this, but I don't want to disturb the clot so I'm just going to leave it. At least the tape seems to be holding," she said, pressing the edges gently. "I was just about done when I… left, before, but I'll just add a couple more strips for good measure and then put on a loose wrap to protect it."

"Sounds good," he said, but he was barely aware of what she was saying. What he  _was_  aware of was the touch of her hands on his arm. As gentle as she was trying to be, the edges of the cut were even more tender now, and there was some pain involved, but that wasn't what was making his breath catch, or his heart speed up. Somehow, as he watched her hands on his shoulder, all he could think of was they way she'd handled his sai earlier, and the warmth of the grip when she'd handed it back.

Suddenly it felt way too warm in the small room, and he broke out in a light sweat.  _It's the bright lights, and two warm bodies in such a small space_ , he told himself, but all that reasoning did was remind him how very  _near_  April was as she bent over his arm. The very air seemed thicker somehow when he next drew a breath, and part of him wanted to bolt out of there, to escape, to stand on the rooftop and let the cold wind fill his lungs, erase the memory of her touch…

But he didn't move— _couldn't_  move, as long as her hands were on him.

"I'm sorry, am I hurting you?"

His head snapped up. "What?"

Her green eyes were already on his face, searching. "You sort of… tensed up. I was trying to be gentle, but I guess it probably still hurts."

He looked at her, really  _looked_  at her then, taking in the messy hair pulled back in a careless ponytail, her skin, pale and completely devoid of any makeup, the faint shadows under her eyes, her slightly chapped lips, and finally her eyes—clear, warm, full of intelligence and concern and, and  _life_ … and all at once his heart clenched so tight he could hardly breathe.

"Oh yeah," he rasped with his eyes still on her face. "It hurts."

_I am in such deep shit._

_-=-=-=-=-=-_


	9. The Bottom Line

_Breathe! Just breathe, dammit!_ Raph thought, but those breaths he did manage were quick, shallow things, insufficient for the oxygen he so desperately needed.

"Sorry, I'm almost done. I'll—Raph?" April's forehead furrowed in concern as she peered more closely at his face. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I think… maybe I need some air," Raphael said in the same half-choked voice. He couldn't think, couldn't process anything right now, and apparently he looked as close to puking as he felt because she didn't even attempt to delay him with questions about what was wrong.

"Go. Get some air," she said, and stepped aside as he practically launched himself out of the bathroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

He threw open the window and floundered out onto the fire escape, catching the railing in both hands to anchor himself as he sucked in breath after breath of cold air. The nausea passed quickly, but even when he was no longer in danger of hurling, he was far from okay. His stomach was a jumble of knots that tightened every time his mind slipped back to the way he'd felt when he'd looked at her, and when he removed one hand from the railing and held it in front of his face, it was trembling visibly.

"Fuck," he said out loud, flapping his hand as if he could shake the tremors away. When that didn't work, he impulsively vaulted up onto the railing and from there leapt up to the landing of the fire escape above him. Two more bounds and he was on the roof. Once there, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to jump across to the next one, and then the next. He was three rooftops away, and about to make it four, when a twinge of pain in his injured arm snapped him back to reality.

He halted and glanced at the cut, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the tape was still holding, and then looked around him.  _What the hell am I doing?_ He'd gone into flight mode, as if putting some distance between them would somehow make this go away… but rationally he knew running off wasn't gonna help. Distance couldn't erase the way his pulse had quickened when she'd touched him, or the way he'd felt both terribly ill and painfully alive just from looking at her. But more importantly, April was probably already wondering what was taking him so long; just disappearing like this might make her start asking questions he didn't want to answer. And right now, even confused as he was, there was one thing he was absolutely sure of—

No one could ever,  _ever_  know about this.

So he had to go back—at least long enough to give some excuse and go home. Then he'd have some time to think about this, figure out what he was going to do. Whatever this was, he knew he couldn't explain it away as mere physical attraction… but still, maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe it was just a, a crush! Having a crush on his best friend's girlfriend would still make him an asshole, but a crush was something you got over, right?

_Not always,_  answered some inner voice, and his knotted stomach cinched tight again as he thought about his brother Donatello, and the way he looked at April sometimes with those pained, wistful eyes.  _Oh god, is this what he feels like when he's around her? And when he sees her with Casey…_ At that thought the nausea returned full force, and Raph actually sank into a crouch on the gravel of the rooftop, bracing himself with one arm while pressing the other over his abdomen, his breathing coming almost raggedly.  _Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!_

He tried desperately to banish those thoughts—he didn't have time for this. Right now he had to do whatever it took to pull himself together and go back to her apartment. His breathing began to slow a little, and when his stomach had settled somewhat he rose again and turned around to retrace his steps, this time mindful of his injured arm. If it started bleeding again, he might just have to reconsider the "run away" option rather than face April's wrath.

When he reached the fire escape again, he saw April on the landing below with her coat on, ready to head up the stairs. Her face smoothed in relief when she saw him. "Hey, I was just coming up to see if you were okay. Didn't you hear me calling?"

"Um, no. Can't hear much up there with the wind," he lied. He paused and stared down, trying to adjust to this new strange way of seeing her, like a filter had been removed from his eyes. It was still April… but now he saw every nuance, every movement, every change in expression like he never had before, and it made his chest ache anew.

"So… are you coming back in?" she asked, and Raph swallowed hard and started down the stairs. When she saw he was coming, she retreated back inside, and Raphael followed her through the window.

Once they were both inside she turned to him with concerned eyes. "So what was that all about? Are you feeling any better?"

"I dunno, I just… suddenly felt sick." That last part at least was true. "Feeling a little better now, but still sorta weird. Thinkin' maybe I should just head home, in case I'm coming down with something."

Her brow furrowed and she stepped forward, reaching out with one hand towards his face…

Raph reflexively jerked back out of her reach, his mouth gone suddenly dry again.

She paused with her hand still in the air, eyebrows raised. "Relax—I'm just checking to see if you have a fever." She didn't wait for him to respond, but reached forward again and laid a wrist across his forehead.

Raph closed his eyes when he felt her hand upon him, trying to stay calm and just concentrate on his breathing, but he wasn't able to draw a full, normal breath until her hand withdrew. He opened his eyes.

"Hm. You do feel a  _little_  warm… it seems kind of early to be showing signs of infection from your arm, but maybe you should check with Donny when you get home, see if he wants to put you on some antibiotics just in case. In the meantime… I'd really feel better if you'd stay here for a while, maybe get something besides beer in your stomach and see if you feel any better before you go leaping across rooftops."

"I don't think—"

" _Please_ , Raphael—I'd be worried about you if you left like this. Just stay for a little while. Please?"

He knew he should refuse, tell her he would go the safer underground route and just get the hell out of here… but there she was, looking at him with big pleading eyes, waiting for an answer, and when he finally spoke, the wrong words came out. "Um… I guess I could. For a little while."

She exhaled and smiled a little. "Good. Go sit down; I'll get you some water."

The pizza arrived a short time later, and Raph even managed to choke some down, having refused April's offer to make him something a little easier to digest. Yup, a typical relaxing evening, just two friends eating pizza and hangin' out… yeah. All except for the 'relaxing' part. Raph didn't know if he'd ever be able to relax around her again. He couldn't stop looking at her, stealing quick glances while she was watching TV and then looking away again just as swiftly, feeling as guilty as if he was watching her undress. He envied the Raphael from an hour ago, joking and talking with her with such casual ease. God, if only he could go back to that…

The only upswing he could find in this whole screwed up scenario was that it was destined to remain completely one-sided. This, this crush, or whatever it was, was something he had to deal with, but at least there was no risk of reciprocation—he had no delusions about that.

"How're you feeling?" April asked, breaking into his thoughts as the TV show they had on came to an end.

"Okay, I guess."

"Good." She paused, watching him, and then said, "Hey… Raph? When you were explaining before about practicing with real weapons, and the joking, and about… not being afraid? I just wanted to tell you, I get it. I feel kind of dumb that I even needed you to spell it out for me, but I'm glad you did. I guess I needed a reality check."

Raph shrugged. "No big deal."

She gave a quick smile, and then turned to gaze absently at the TV, looking rather thoughtful. "It's weird, isn't it?" she said after a short silence. "We couldn't BE more different from each other, right? I mean, just look at us! And yet sometimes when I'm sitting here with you… or Leo or Don or Mikey, I just… forget."

April turned to him again, her eyes seeking his, and all he could do was stare back into them, his breath locked in his chest and his heart beating painfully. "Yeah, that's… weird," he managed finally.

She held his eyes a few seconds longer, and then abruptly broke eye contact, turning away and tucking some loose strands of hair back behind her ears. "Anyway, did you, um… are you done?" she asked with a vague wave at the pizza box.

"Uh, yeah. I'm done."

"Okay, then I guess I'll just… start clearing things up," she said, fumbling a little as she began gathering up the napkins and plates.

After helping her clean up, and assuring her again that he was feeling better, Raph left—and made it as far as the rooftop again before sinking weakly down against the side of the stairwell, drinking in the cold air as if he'd just sprinted across the city. He felt drained, exhausted, like he really had been ill, but at least he'd made it out of there before collapsing.

_We couldn't BE more different from each other, right? I mean, just look at us! And yet sometimes when I'm sitting here with you… I just… forget._

_Oh god._  He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as he waited for the aching pressure in his chest to subside. Why,  _why_  hadn't he left earlier as he'd planned? He had enough to deal with as it was, and now this on top of it… Every time her words replayed in his head it was like someone had taken a two-by-four to his plastron, but that wasn't even the worst part. Raph didn't know what horrified him more—what she'd said, or the tiny spark of hope that had flared in him when she said it.

* * *

  
It was hours before he headed home.

Usually when Raph had something on his mind, it was action he craved—running, fighting, lifting weights, whatever. But right now he mostly just felt… tired. There were other things, too—confusion, guilt, anger… but all muffled under a heavy layer of fatigue. So he wasn't in the mood for most of his usual pastimes, but he didn't want to go home yet, either. In truth, what he wanted was a good stiff drink. And as soon as he felt like his legs could handle it, he pulled himself up to go get one.

Years ago, when he'd been in the thick of his Nightwatcher obsession, a close call one night had lead to the creation of emergency caches hidden at various locations around the city. That way if it wasn't safe to go home, or if he couldn't  _make_  it home, he'd at least have access to a few necessities. Most of them just consisted of a basic first aid kit, a couple of blankets, and some food and water. Even when he retired as Nightwatcher, though, he'd left his caches as they were—never knew when something like that could come in handy. A couple of them he'd even expanded, using them to store things he didn't feel comfortable keeping at the lair… and it just so happened that one of them was nearby.

When he reached the rooftop where his stash was located, he selected a well-depleted bottle of rum, and as an afterthought grabbed a heavy blanket, itchy but warm. He also kept an assortment of confiscated weapons there that he was sure Master Splinter wouldn't approve of, and some emergency cash, also confiscated, but he left those untouched and went in search of a more scenic spot to sit for a while. He didn't have a destination in mind, really, but just kept on until the buildings stopped and he found himself staring down at the dark void of Central Park.

He'd been to the park many times before, of course, but it had never really been a big draw for him. The area was pretty heavily patrolled, and the 1:00 am curfew strictly enforced, so even as Nightwatcher his time had been better spent elsewhere. Mike and Leo came here more, though he doubted it was for the same reasons. Raph was pretty sure Leonardo came to bond with the trees like some goddamn elf, since he'd practically  _lived_  in them in Costa Rica, but Mikey… well if he had to guess, he'd say Mikey was drawn to the people. Even at night in the warmer weather there were plenty of them—walkers, joggers, people taking carriage rides—but unlike on the streets of the city, where they could "escape" into a building at any given moment, people in the park were completely out in the open, their every word and movement exposed for anyone who cared to take notice.

Raph understood the whole people-watching thing—before they'd been allowed to explore the city from  _above_  street level, almost everything they'd known about humans had come from TV and magazines, and it hadn't take them long to figure out it was very different from how people actually lived. So they'd watched. Even from the beginning Raph had been drawn more the city's shadier denizens, the people who hung out in the shadows, who flaunted the rules and spoke mostly in street slang. But Michelangelo had liked to watch people engaged in more wholesome activities—families picnicking, kids skating, frisbees flying… and Central Park before dark was full of them.

Raphael paused on the rooftop, considering briefly, then decided this was as good a place as any for his purpose. He made his way to a corner of the roof a little more sheltered from the wind and sat down, pulling the blanket around his shoulders before taking a quick pull from the bottle. He grimaced at the taste, but the liquor burned satisfyingly going down and settled warmly in his stomach. There wasn't much to see below him—just the tops of trees and a couple of dimly lit pathways, and one lone couple seemingly oblivious to the cold as they walked hand in hand into the park.

Raph watched them for a time, finally turning away when they stopped to share a leisurely kiss by a park bench. Couples—no matter where he looked in the city, it was always couples. He took another swig from the bottle and swung his gaze out across to the skyscrapers that formed the other wall of the chasm below, making the park look like a sanctuary of stillness and silence in the otherwise lurid city.

Raphael had never quite understood the human obsession with finding The One. He had a family, and a few friends—plenty of companionship. Of course he'd fantasized often enough about being with a woman… just not being in a  _relationship_  with one. Even hanging around April and Casey after they started dating hadn't changed the way he felt. Frankly, a full-time relationship seemed like a lot of work… and the "romance" part? The holding hands, sharing food, walking around oblivious to everything, stealing kisses in the moonlight… Seriously, did any guy actually  _want_  to do that stuff—well, besides the kissing part?

Maybe that was why he hadn't seen it coming with April—being with her was just so, so  _easy_. It didn't feel anything like what he thought of as romance… which was partly why all of this was so confusing. He took another drink, hoping the rum would help silence the rabble of thoughts jostling in his head _. How the hell did this happen? What does it mean? And just what the fuck am I supposed to_ _do_ _about it?_

Raph didn't know if the drink had anything to do with or not, but after a time things did begin to crystallize; among all the thoughts clamoring for attention, one sobering fact eventually eclipsed them all. When it came down to it, it didn't matter that he'd somehow developed feelings for April. It didn't matter what it meant, or exactly how it had happened… it didn't even matter if she'd really meant what she said about sometimes forgetting how different they were. There was only one thing that actually mattered—

_She's Casey's girlfriend._

That was it; that was the bottom line. Casey was his friend—hell, friend wasn't even the right word, really.  _Brother_  would be closer, though that wasn't a perfect fit either since he was pretty sure nothing could ever match the bond he felt with his real brothers. But the label didn't matter. What mattered was he couldn't do anything to betray Casey. Ever.

Which meant that no matter how far-fetched, how absurd, how  _insane_  it might seem that there was any risk of things going further, he couldn't take any chances. Even realizing he'd developed this, this crush on April made him practically sick with guilt, and it wasn't like he'd  _meant_  for it to happen, or even had any idea where things were leading. If he had, he would've… well of  _course_  he would've stopped hanging out with her!

But now… just the thought cutting her off like that made his chest squeeze tight.  _It ain't like I'd never see her,_  he told himself.  _She's part of our family—there'll be holidays, movie nights, and she'll come down to the lair sometimes, just like before._ But that didn't make him feel any better, didn't make it any easier to breathe. And it occurred to him that  _she_  might not take it very well, either, if he just suddenly stopped coming over. She'd know there was something wrong then, and April was nothing if not persistent when it came to getting answers.

Maybe he could just… leave things the way they were, play it cool and wait for this to blow over... but then her words from earlier came back to him once again.

_Sometimes when I'm sitting here with you… I just… forget._

His stomach twisted, and he pressed the palm of his free hand hard against his forehead. "Fuck fuck  _fuck_ ," he growled out loud. He took another drink, upending the bottle completely, but only a trickle came out. "FUCK!" he yelled, and hurled the empty bottle with all of his strength out into the void. There was a sharp crack and a tinkling of shattered glass when it hit the street below. The couple in the park, now sitting  _on_  the bench and kissing, didn't even look up.

It was no good; he couldn't do it. Even if he tried to act normal he'd fail miserably, and she'd know something was wrong—and the same thing would happen if he just quit seeing her altogether. Either way, he was screwed. But maybe… maybe he could just sort of… back off, little by little. He could play it like he was just losing interest. He felt sick inside, imagining how that would hurt her. Hell, she might not even  _buy_  it… but he didn't know what else he could do. At least this way, when he dodged her inevitable questions about what was going on, there was a good chance she would form her own conclusions and take his silence as reluctance to hurt her feelings.

_No. No way, I can't do it_ , he thought as he imagined her reaction, her face when she connected the dots. He rocked forward, this time pressing both hands to his forehead. There had to be another way, there had to… be…

_She's Casey's girlfriend._

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, breathing heavily, and then swallowed hard. After a time he managed to take a deeper breath, slowly in and out, willing himself to relax. It took some time before his muscles actually obeyed, but he couldn't control the goosebumps that prickled across his skin in spite of the blanket he wore.  _I have to. I have to do it._ At that moment he really regretted his decision to go with the rum; the small amount left in the bottle had been good for a buzz, but right now it was oblivion he was thirsty for.

He was still sitting there trying to gather himself when his shell cell buzzed. Raph rubbed his eyes wearily and pulled the phone out of his belt, scanning the caller ID.  _Casey_.Not exactly who he wanted to talk to right now.

He answered anyway.

"Yeah," he said, but his usual brusque greeting came out as more of a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah."

" _Look man, we gotta talk_ ," Casey said without preamble.

Instantly Raph's heart sped up.  _Casey_  wanted to  _talk_? What if he…? But no, that was absurd. There was no way he could know anything; it was just Raph's guilty conscience talking.  _Be cool, just be cool._  "Um, sure," he said with attempted nonchalance. "What's up?"

" _I know you 'n April have been havin' fun lately an' everything, and I'm cool with that, but apparently we gotta lay down some ground rules."_

His heart skipped a beat. "Ground rules? What—?"

" _An' I gotta be straight with you—I don't think I should even have to_ _say_ _this to my best friend_."

Raph was in full panic mode now.  _Fuck me. He knows. I got no idea how, but he knows._  He broke out in a sweat, feeling light-headed and quite incapable of formulating a coherent response. Fortunately Casey didn't seem to expect one, and he just forged ahead while Raph listened, dry-mouthed.

" _But apparently I do, so I'll just spell it out for you: when my_ _girlfriend_ _finally agrees to watch Rambo, or any other hard-core action flick, I damn well better be included!"_

"Wh-what?" Raph croaked.

" _YOU GUYS WATCHED RAMBO WITHOUT ME!_ "

Suddenly, although he could still hear his heart pounding in his temples, the vise gripping his chest loosened, and Raphael breathed in sweet air.

" _For years I been tryin' to get her to watch it with me! YEARS!_ " Casey raged on, " _And finally she watches it with MY BEST BUDDY and I'm not even there! Wasn't even told about it until WAY after the fact!_ "

"S-sorry, man, I, I didn't know!" Raph sputtered, struggling to re-adjust now that he knew the real problem. And it wasn't until after he'd said the words that wondered why that was.  _I didn't know—_ s _he never told me._ It seemed a little… odd. If Casey had been trying as long as he said to get April to watch Rambo, how come she'd never mentioned it when Raph picked the very same movie? And… how come she hadn't told Casey they'd watched it at all until tonight? But he didn't say any of that to Casey. "Look, you're right, I shoulda' thought of it. I swear, if we make plans to watch any more action movies, I'll make sure you're there."

He could hear Casey breathing over the phone, and he just waited, hoping it meant he was cooling off. Apparently he was, because next time he spoke his voice sounded more normal, both in tone and volume. " _Yeah… okay. That's all I wanted to hear. Uh. Sorry for, y'know, jumping on you like that."_

"Hey, it's Rambo. I get it," Raph answered.

There was a pause over the phone, and then Casey said, " _So…_   _how'd you get her to go for it, anyway?_ "

"I uh, helped her in the shop."

" _That's it? I've helped her in the shop a million times!_ "

_Not lately, though, according to April,_ Raph thought. But all he said was, "I don't know what to tell ya."

There was a slight sigh on the other end. " _It's okay—least I guilted her into watching the rest of 'em with me. You can get in on that too, if ya want. Make it a threesome._ "

Raph's stomach churned at the very thought. "Um, thanks, but it's okay. I hogged the first one, so you two enjoy."

" _Okay. Well if you change your mind.._."

"I'll call you," Raph agreed, but he knew he wouldn't.

A short while later they hung up, and once again Raph leaned back and closed his eyes. If he'd felt wrung out before, it was nothing to how he felt now. Plus the phone call had effectively killed his buzz, so he had to face the trip home dead sober—not a pleasant prospect. He sat a while longer, but without the burn of the liquor even the blanket didn't keep the chill out for long. Reluctantly he pulled himself up, casting his gaze downward one last time before turning for home. What he could see of the park was empty now; no doubt the couple from the bench had gone in search of someplace warmer to continue their activities…

And for once it wasn't just the physical part Raphael envied.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	10. Distraction

He awoke to warmth, all around him—and it might've been stifling if not for the contentment he felt, the complete and utter relaxation of his body, and the haze of sleep that still enveloped him. He kept still, intending to postpone full wakefulness as long as possible, when he felt a stirring behind him.

Raphael stiffened.  _What the—?_

He rolled to his back, and turned to see April asleep beside him.

April.

Lying right next to him.

_In bed._

He was suddenly and fully awake, but still oddly disoriented, and he half sat up as he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. Almost immediately, he knew. He was in April's room. April and  _Casey's_  room. It looked… different, but there was no doubt about it. His heart was pounding as he tried to remember, tried to figure out how he got here, when April stirred beside him again. Her hair was loose, tousled, and she muttered something in her sleep and stretched an arm up across the pillow her face was pressed into… and immediately Raph's eyes caught on her shoulder—her slender,  _bare_  shoulder that was no longer covered by the sheet draped over the rest of her.

He was in April's room, in her bed, and she was  _naked_  underneath the covers next to him… or at least topless.

He couldn't make any sense of this, of how this happened, but that wasn't his biggest problem at the moment.  _I have to get out of here. NOW._

He scuttle-scooted backward, dry-mouthed with panic, but he was all caught up in the blankets coiled around him, around his legs, and he twisted and kicked but he couldn't free himself. He grabbed the sheets, trying to tear them away, and April moved again, this time opening her eyes and blinking sleepily.

"Raph," she muttered.

He didn't answer, but redoubled his efforts to free himself.

"Raph, hey, stop," April said faintly, and then she touched his shoulder.

That was the final straw, that touch—for what it meant, for what it made him feel, and he thrashed almost wildly, desperate to escape the bed that seemed to be trying to swallow him whole.

She grabbed his shoulder then, shaking, and her voice became louder, more assertive. "Raph! Raphae—OW! HEY DUDE, WAKE UP!  **RAPH!** "

He gasped, feeling as if he'd smacked into a wall, and immediately upon opening his eyes realized it wasn't far off the mark. Not wall. Floor. His cheek was pressed against the floor, and he squinted up to see his hammock, still swaying gently, and Michelangelo staring down at him with wide eyes.

"I KNOCKED, okay?" his brother said with a note of panic in his voice. "Leo sent me! Practice is supposed to start soon, and when you weren't down for breakfast, Leo said to check on you, and I knocked, and you didn't answer so I peeked in, and you were sorta like, struggling, so I tried to wake you and you KICKED me and fell out of your hammock!"

All of that was said much too quickly to process for someone who had yet to peel himself off the floor. Slowly Raph pushed himself up on one arm, and then he was sitting up, rubbing his face. He looked over at the clock, strategically placed at the other end of the room. Yup. He'd overslept. "Fuck," he muttered, which was all he could think to say under the circumstances.

Michelangelo watched him for a moment. "Um. You okay?" he asked.

"Peachy," he grumbled, and started to get up. His brother extended a hand out, and Raph looked at it for a heartbeat before grasping it. Mike pulled him up.

"So what was that, like a nightmare or something?" Michelangelo asked.

"Or something," Raph answered, and automatically began hunting for his mask and gear.

His brother stood quietly, watching him as he gathered his stuff. "Anything you wanna talk about?"

Raph plucked his mask off the floor, straightened, and began tying it on. "It was just a dream," he said dismissively, as if he'd already forgotten it.  _Right. I wish._  "Tell Leo not to get his panties in a bunch, I'll be right down."

"Sure thing," Mike said, but he continued to stand there, watching. "So… you're not mad that I came into your room without permission?" he asked at last.

Raphael just shrugged. "You said you knocked."  _Several times._  "Guess Leo would a' freaked out if you didn't check on me."

"Right. Exactly." Mikey paused, then said, "Are you  _sure_  you're okay?"

Raph turned slowly to level a dangerous look at him. "Ask me one more time and you'll find out."

His brother took the hint. "Ooookay, see ya downstairs," he said, beating a hasty retreat.

Raph watched him go, and then heaved a sigh. The truth was he wasn't okay. This wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of her, and there seemed to be a pattern emerging. The first time, just a few days ago, he'd dreamed he and April were curled up on the couch together, sitting up but sharing a blanket, her warmth pressed against his side and her head resting on his shoulder. Weird, for sure, since Raph wasn't exactly known for his cuddly nature, but otherwise no big deal, right? Right… except the warmth he'd felt had had very little to do with the blanket covering them.

In the next one April had been massaging his shoulders. There wasn't really anything… suggestive about the way she touched him, but as in real life he'd been powerless to move. Long after awakening he could still feel her hands on him, working slowly and firmly against the muscles, and just the memory of it was enough to make him shudder involuntarily.

And now today, it had been more intimate still, and his stomach swooped when he wondered just what his dreams would be like if the progression continued along this path. Even though the end of the dream had been dominated by feelings of anxiety and panic, it was the other parts his thoughts kept slipping back to—the feeling of relaxation and contentment and warmth, the fall of her hair across the crisp white pillow, the sleepy way she'd looked up at him, not quite smiling, and of course her smooth bare skin emerging from the sheets.  _She_  hadn't been freaked out when she'd seen him next to her in bed…

_I wonder if we… Goddammit, no, it was just a dream! Nothing happened before that, because it wasn't_ _real_ _!_

Savagely he tugged on his other kneepad, took a deep breath, and went downstairs. Maybe practice was exactly what he needed right now—nothing like good ol' fashioned violence to take his mind off things.

When he got downstairs, Mike and Don were already in the dojo ready to start warm-ups, and Leo was just about to join them. Leonardo turned to him, his expression neutral.

"Hey. Sorry, I guess I forgot to set my alarm," Raph said at once. He glanced past Leo into the dojo, and then back in the direction of the kitchen before looking back to his brother. "Um. Do I have time to grab something to eat real quick?" His brother was a hard-ass when it came to punctuality, and he was in Training Mode right now, all business, but he wasn't unreasonable. Depending on what Master Splinter had planned for today, it could be a while before he got another chance to eat.

Leonardo studied him with a swift glance that seemed to take in everything all at once, and Raph knew that Mikey had told him about the "nightmare."

"Go ahead," Leo said. Then his eyes settled on Raph's right arm. "How's the arm?"

"You mean besides the pus and the smell?"

Leo's eyes narrowed very slightly, and Raph sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's fine, Leo—just like it was yesterday when you asked, and the day before that."

His brother's jaw tightened just slightly, but all he said was, "Just the same, I'll ask Donny to take a look later." Which of course meant he wasn't giving Raph a choice in the matter. "And don't forget to wrap it good before practice."

"Aye aye, captain," he answered with a mock salute. Still, he supposed he understood how Leonardo felt—Raph had inflicted wounds on his brothers during practice before… sometimes it had even been accidental. Even though they all accepted these kinds of injuries as part of the package, it was hard not to feel a little guilty.

By the time Raph finished eating and wrapping his arm, Leonardo was leading his brothers through a set of slow katas designed more for stretching muscles and loosening joints than practicing real skills. Raph took a couple of laps at Leo's direction before joining them. After the preliminaries were finished came the more intense part of the warm-up routine—the part that actually prepared their bodies for the physically strenuous workout that their sensei undoubtedly had planned for them.

The specific content varied somewhat on a day-to-day basis, and today Leo had them doing stations—flips at one, rolls at another, climbing ropes, punching bag… and that was just the warm-up. When they were younger, Splinter had had them on conditioning schedules as well to make sure they stayed on track with cardio and strength-building, but now they were expected to keep up with that one their own—and with the rigorous daily training sessions they had, it was easy to spot anyone who'd been slacking. In addition to all of this they had a weekly schedule for one-on-one sessions with Master Splinter, and regular topside drills.

Once upon a time, Raphael had found this regimen oppressive. Not the physical work itself—that he'd virtually thrived on. It was more the rigidity of it, the  _relentlessness_  of it, and the perceived lack of choice. But now he saw things differently. The team was whole again, and he intended to do everything he could to make sure it stayed that way.

The arrival of their sensei signaled the beginning of training, and they knelt around him to hear what he had planned for today's session. Raphael listened attentively… for the first minute or so, anyway. But as Master Splinter talked on seemingly without getting any closer to explaining what they'd be doing, it became increasingly difficult to keep his own thoughts at bay.

He'd only spoken to her once since That Night. She'd called the next day to see if he was feeling any better, and to badger him about checking in with Don "just in case," in spite of his assurances that he was feeling much better. Which was a lie. If anything he felt worse, and the goddamn dreams weren't helping.

_Ain't like I can control 'em_ , he thought, but guilt tightened around his insides like a frigid coil of wire. Because even though he hadn't called her, knew he shouldn't call her, he'd  _wanted_  to call her. He'd even considered texting her, in spite of the fact that he hated sending text messages—ninja or not, tiny buttons and oversized fingers weren't exactly a smooth combo. But he was supposed to be backing off, not finding new ways to contact her. No, he should wait for her to call him again, which would probably be when she had some night in mind for their next get-together.

_And then what?_

Raphael's stomach lurched a little as he considered his next move. Assuming there were no legitimate conflicts, should he agree to see her? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. To carry out his plan, he knew he had to see her eventually… but maybe he should put it off a bit so as not to seem too eager. He fidgeted a little, unthinkingly, and then drew in a short, startled breath when he felt the slight but unmistakable kiss of steel against his throat. He froze, not even daring to breathe as his entire existence shrank to that one touch, that cold line pressed to his neck. It didn't matter that he knew himself to be in the dojo surrounded by family, or that it was clearly the blunt edge of a weapon that was touching him. Here it might be purely symbolic, but in other circumstances it was the prelude to a lethal strike. Game over. The end. And it was never something to be taken lightly, even in training.

Still holding completely still, Raph raised his eyes to see his father—no, his sensei—staring at him across the length of a sword, expression impassive but eyes blazing.

"It is not just physical distractions we must practice overcoming," the rat said, clearly elaborating on something he'd already said that Raph hadn't heard. "Is that not so, Raphael?"

Raph swallowed. " _Hai_ Sensei," he said, resisting the impulse to look down as the burn of shame spread over his face. He recognized the blade as Leo's, and knew their sensei had just made an example of him… and he had no defense, no excuse—not one his father would find acceptable, anyway. The rat held the sword in position for a moment longer before smoothly withdrawing it and handing it back to Leonardo, who wore his best poker face as he re-sheathed the weapon.

"It is clear there is something on your mind," Splinter continued, "So it is fortunate that you will have a lot of time to think while you are cleaning the dojo this afternoon—including the practice weapons," he said with a gesture to the far side of the dojo. "When you are finished you will also clean your brothers' personal weapons, if they wish it."

Raphael felt the familiar smolder of indignant anger pressing against his chest, trying to break free, but he gritted his teeth and fought it down, even managing a small, submissive dip of his head as he answered, " _Hai_ , Sensei."  _This day just keeps getting better and better._

The rat studied him another moment before giving a short nod of acknowledgment. "Now, I while I repeat the explanation of today's training for Raphael…" He looked up, his eyes sweeping around to include the others. "…You three will do  _Jisatsu_."

There was an audible groan from Michelangelo, and a huff of resigned breath from Don. Only Leo was silent, but Raph was sure he was no more thrilled than the others.  _Jisatsu_ , an adaptation of the "suicide" sprints commonly used in American athletics for conditioning, was one of Master Splinter's more evil exercises. Instead of sprinting back and forth from line to line, they alternated between running and flips—no chance for a rest, no letup in between. It was grueling, and as far as Raph could tell, the only purpose was to tire them out. Quickly.

"Begin now!" the rat barked in Japanese when they moved out too slowly for his liking, and only when Mike, Don, and Leo had spread out and started the exercise did he turn back to Raphael. "So," he said, watching Raph closely. "Does it seem fair to you that your brothers are doing  _Jisatsu_  when  _you_  were the one who was not paying attention?"

Raph shook his head but kept his eyes downcast, trying his best to block out the sounds of his brothers' exertions. "No Sensei," he said quietly.

"Good answer—it is not fair. Just like it would not be 'fair' if they were hurt or killed in a fight because your thoughts were elsewhere. You must learn to focus your mind at will, no matter what distractions are present.  _Wakarimashita-ka_?"

Yeah, he understood… but it still pissed him off. It wasn't like there was much danger of him spacing out while he was actually  _fighting_ , it was just the sitting around and yacking he found tedious. But then again, even though they hadn't been fighting, he'd still ended up with a sword at his throat… which he supposed was exactly the point his father was trying to make. "Hai, Sensei," he said at last, his tone resigned.

"Good. Because that is the focus of today's training."

* * *

  
Using the term "training session" to describe what happened after that was almost laughable.  _Torture_  session was more like it. The concept wasn't wholly unfamiliar—Master Splinter said they had to practice fighting under difficult conditions as much as possible so they could adapt more easily when things went wrong in a real battle, and from time to time he created scenarios meant to mimic such conditions.

Like one time, Splinter had woken them all up after just a few hours of sleep and held an impromptu training session. Another time he'd had them fast for 24 hours before practice. Predictably, training on an empty stomach had been harder on one member of the team than the others. Raph was eagerly awaiting the day he'd tell them they needed to practice fighting while intoxicated, but for today the plan had been to give each of them physical impairments by tying or weighting down an arm or a leg. Which would have been hilarious to watch, if they were all "handicapped" at the same time… but of course that wasn't good enough for Splinter.

Theoretically, they were supposed to overcome their handicaps well enough to fight against able-bodied opponents, so each time they were paired up to spar, only one of them was given an impairment, which basically amounted to an ass-kicking of epic proportions. And since none of his brothers were particularly happy with Raph after the whole  _Jisatsu_  thing, they took their revenge where they could.

So now here he was—banged up, exhausted, and on the home stretch at last. Raph had spent the afternoon—all afternoon, except for a quick lunch break—vaccuuming, sweeping, dusting, beating mats, and mopping. He'd even cleaned the candle sconces and replaced every single candle. Plenty of time to think indeed… Master Splinter had even forbidden him from listening to music while he worked, so there'd been nothing else to do  _but_  think. And no matter how hard he fought it, his thoughts came back to one thing… or rather, one person. Even this, cleaning weapons, reminded him of the last time he'd seen April, and the way she'd handled his sai with such delicacy and reverence. It made his stomach flip a little every time, and that was bad bad bad, but he couldn't seem to stop. And he still didn't know what he was going to say next time she called and invited him over…

When Leonardo entered the dojo several minutes later, Raph wasn't exactly in the best of moods.

"Hey. How's it coming?" his brother asked.

Raph grunted, a noncommittal sound. Leo could take that however he wanted.

"What do you have left?"

Wordlessly he raised the  _bokken_  he'd been cleaning and pointed it at the weapon rack near the workout bench where he sat. "Got all those weapons left to clean, plus Mike's and Don's, an' whatever you brought for me," he said, at last glancing over at his brother.

"Right. Here you go." Leo held out his hand, and Raph raised his brow ridges when he saw what his brother was offering. "Two shuriken? That's all you've got for me?"

Leonardo shrugged lightly. "Thought you'd be happy."

"Ecstatic," Raph grumbled. He held out his hand to accept the weapons, and set them down next to the rest of the stuff. Leo's full "arsenal" was by far the largest, so he supposed he should be relieved he hadn't brought more, but Raph couldn't muster much enthusiasm about that when he'd been at it so long already. He picked up his cloth again and continued cleaning the  _bokken_. "That because you feel sorry for me, or because you don't trust me to handle your precious weapons?" he said sourly.

"Neither," Leo replied, taking a seat beside him on the bench. "My other stuff just doesn't need cleaning, that's all. Just did them last night."

Raph snorted. "Of course you did." He remained silent as he continued going over the wooden sword, making sure to get deep in the grooves and fissures with the cloth. Then he glanced over in surprise when Leonardo picked up a second cloth from the ground in front of him, dampened it in the bowl of water Raph had put on the floor, and began cleaning the handle of a  _kama_  he'd taken off the rack.

"You don't have to do that," Raph muttered, but he was slightly mollified by the gesture.

"I don't mind—I actually find it kind of satisfying," Leo answered as he continued cleaning.

"Maybe  _you_  don't mind, but Splinter might. This is supposed to be my punishment."

"I don't think he'll mind. I think he was impressed with you today."

_Come again?_ Raph glanced over, hoping for something more of a clue in his brother's expression, but Leo had his eyes fixed down on the weapon.

"You think he was  _impressed_  with me?" Raph said. "For what, beating the all-time record for how fast one of us ends up with a sword at their throat?" He shook his head. "Can I have some of whatever you've been smoking?"

Leo glanced up with a quick smile at that last comment, but he was serious when he answered, "You screwed up… but you accepted the repercussions without getting defensive or surly or… violent, and you worked hard during the rest of practice. Besides, it wasn't like you were the only one who wasn't paying attention during Sensei's explanation. Hell, Mikey was practically catatonic, and Donny… well, he's good at hiding it, you know? But I doubt he was hanging on Master Splinter's every word."

Raph was quiet for a moment, taking that in, and he was scrubbing the  _bokken_  rather aggressively with the cloth when he said, "So how come I was the only one to get nailed for it? How come they're not scrubbing out toilets or something?"

Leo ran the cloth once more down the handle of the weapon, and then stopped, resting his elbow on his knee as he turned pointedly to look at Raphael. "Because his standards for you are higher."

"Wha—why?!" Raphael sputtered.

"Well, you're serious about this now." Leonardo paused, and searched his face with those keen eyes. "Aren't you?"

Raphael couldn't even keep up a pretense of cleaning now. He could only stare. And for some reason, his heart was beating a little harder in his chest.

"Okay… let me ask you this," Leo continued when he realized he wasn't going to get an answer. "If Splinter gathered us all together tonight and announced that from now on, training was optional… where do you think Michelangelo would be when it was time to start practice?"

"He'd be in front of the TV playing video games," Raph answered immediately. "And eating junk food until he made himself sick."

Leo nodded. "And where would Don be?"

"He'd… I dunno. He might show up sometimes, just enough so Master Splinter could see he was trying, but mostly he'd be on his computer or in his lab."

Leo nodded again. "And where would I be?"

That was a no-brainer. "You'd be right here. Every goddamn day."

This time he got a flicker of a smile, and then Leo looked him in the eyes and said, "Where would you be?"

Raph lowered his eyes, thinking, and then he raised them slowly to meet his brother's. "I'd be right here with you," he said gruffly. He spoke the words softly, but his left hand was clutching the handle of the  _bokken_  so hard it hurt.

Leo held his eyes, studying them for a long moment, and finally nodded. "And that's it. That's the difference. Master Splinter sees it, and I see it. Mike and Don… their hearts aren't in it. Yet, anyway. That could change, just like it did for me, and for you. And if that happens, they'll be held to a higher standard, too."

Raph looked back down and continued rubbing the practice sword, which was undoubtedly cleaner by now than it had been in years. "Great. Just fucking great. So I get to be held to a 'higher standard,' and then get punished when I fail to meet it. I'm honored. Truly."

"Welcome to my world," Leo said with just a hint of bitterness.

Raphael laughed in surprise, and his brother glanced up with a rueful smile. Then Raph looked down and shook his head, still smiling. He switched his damp cloth for a dry one and went over the practice sword again, thinking. "That why you came in here, to give me some sort a' pep talk?"

"No."

He finished drying the bokken, inspected it, and then took yet another cloth, dampening with a little linseed oil. Master Splinter hadn't specifically said he had to oil the wooden weapons, but it was part of good weapon maintenance to oil them when they started to get dry, and Raph figured if he was gonna do this, he might as well do it right. "Why  _did_  you come here, then?" he asked at last.

"In part, because Master Splinter asked me to inspect your work when you finished, make sure everything was up to par. But mainly, I came because you seem like you have something… weighing on you."

It was an opening, an invitation to talk about it if he wanted to, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell  _anyone_  about this. So he sighed in feigned frustration and deflected. "I'm fine! Jeezus. You said yourself the others weren't paying attention either, so why don't you go see what's bothering them?"

His brother finished running an oiled cloth over the handle of the  _kama_ , and then replaced it on the weapon rack and selected its twin for cleaning. "It's not just your lapse in attention this morning, it's your whole… vibe," Leo said calmly.

_Should've known, it's the damn "vibe" again giving me away,_ said his sarcastic inner voice. God it was annoying having a brother like Leo sometimes.

Leonardo glanced sidelong at Raph. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He shrugged. "Just thought I might be able to help."

_I wish_ , thought Raph, but he didn't say anything, and even though it was clear his brother wasn't the least bit fooled, he let it drop. They both worked in silence for a time, cleaning side by side, and perhaps because Leonardo didn't seem inclined to press him on it, Raph's resolve to shut him out began to waver a little.

"So what do you do, when you have something… weighing on you?" Raphael said at length.

Leonardo's eyes flicked to him, just for a moment. "You mean if I don't want to talk about it?"

"Right," Raph confirmed. He knew his brother was letting him know the offer still stood, but it was out of the question.

"In that case," Leo said, "I'd probably meditate on it."

Raph paused in his cleaning, and leveled a Look at his brother.

"Hey, you asked me what  _I'd_  do," Leonardo defended, "You didn't ask me what I thought  _you_ should do."

Raph sighed. "Okay, smartass, whaddya think  _I_ should do, then?"

"Depends. I need a little more information. Not specifics," he added quickly, "Just… well, for example, is it a problem you're trying to find a solution to?"

Raph shifted a little on the bench. "Noooo," he said after a moment's thought. "I've got that worked out, but I just, um, can't stop thinking about some of the details. It's like my mind just keeps going back to the same things."

Leo nodded to himself. "What about at night?"

"Sorta the same thing. I can't seem to get my brain to shut down, and when I do, it's, um… I have these dreams." God, those dreams… the worst part was, as much as they freaked him out, part of him hoped they would continue.

His brother was quiet for a minute, running the cloth smoothly over the staff he was working on. "Sometimes," Leo answered at last, "When your mind seems to be running in circles, it's because it's unable to complete the cycle of thought. In many cases, that's because you're blocking it, either consciously or subconsciously. When your mind spends a lot of time blocking when you're awake, it can carry over to your  _unconscious_  mind—which is the part that takes over when you're sleeping."

"Very informative. And that's supposed to help me how, exactly?"

"Well, sometimes if you allow your mind to complete the cycle of thought, it'll stop running in circles and let go, so to speak."

"And how do I do that?" Raph asked slowly. "Complete the cycle of thought?"

"Normally I'd suggest using meditation to sort of tap into your subconscious and override the mental block, but since that's apparently out of the question, if I were you I'd try some release techniques."

It was too perfect—he couldn't pass it up. "Release techniques, huh?" Raph said, looking up at his brother with a sly grin. "I gotta tell you, I thought I was doing enough a' that, but I guess I could do a little more if you think it'd help."

Leo rolled his eyes and huffed. "Okay, forget that—let's call them… bridging techniques, then. Basically, they're techniques to help you unblock your unconscious mind so it can complete the cycle of thought while you're sleeping. The idea is that when you wake up, your mind won't be so preoccupied with it."

Well that kinda sounded like a load of crap to Raph. "Kinda sounds like a load of crap to me," he said bluntly.

Leo shrugged, seemingly unfazed. "Just an suggestion. I can tell you how to do it if you want."

Raphael hesitated. It  _did_  sound like crap… but then what would it hurt to try? If it didn't work, he'd be no worse off than he was now. And even just sitting here talking to Leo she wasn't far from his mind, with Casey in a distant second, which somehow seemed backwards to him. He'd been spending so much time with April, but  _Casey_  was his best friend. Maybe that was the problem—maybe he just needed a little refresher on where his loyalties were supposed to lie. He didn't think Case was working tonight, and he could definitely use a change of scenery...

"Thanks, but it ain't that big a' deal. Think I'll just give it some more time."

"Suit yourself," Leo said, and continued cleaning.

They cleaned the rest of the practice weapons together, more or less in silence, and though Leo might have been hanging around to see if he would change his mind, Raph rather suspected he was just being… nice.

That, and his brother really  _did_  like cleaning weapons, which made him wonder which of them was more screwed up.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	11. Taking Sides

A million years later, Raph only had one errand left—dropping off his brothers' weapons. He'd already called Casey, and even though it was still fucking freezing outside, it looked to be a clear night, and they both agreed they could use some fresh air. Raph could use a hell of a lot more than that, truth be told, but fresh air was a start.

He headed to Don's room first, and even before he got all the way there he knew what he'd find—over the usual hum of processors and the whir of cooling fans he could hear telltale clicking of a keyboard. Sure enough, when he reached the doorway he found his brother hunched in front of his computer, a faint smile on his face as he stared intently at the monitor. As Raph watched, Don's smile deepened, and then his fingers were flying over the keyboard again. It was no easy feat typing like that, considering the equipment was designed for five-fingered creatures with much smaller digits, but as usual Don managed to compensate somehow. When it came to technology, nothing slowed him down for long.

His brother seemed completely oblivious to him standing there, but Raph observed him a few more seconds, his stomach tightening uncomfortably. Because all at once he knew what his brother was doing on the computer—not work, his pauses were too regular, his posture too relaxed. He was IMing with someone, and by the dopey smile on his face, Raph had a feeling wasn't Leatherhead.

He clenched his jaw and knocked sharply on the doorframe. Don turned at the sound.

"Hey. Brought your stuff back," Raph said, though it was self-evident—most of Don's weapons were rather difficult to conceal, and he was carrying two bo staffs, one jo staff, a yari, a bow with a quiver of arrows, and an assortment of smaller pieces. Without waiting for a response, he marched over to Don's bed and dumped everything none too gently on it.

"Um, okay," his brother said, looking askance at him, but even the rough treatment of his belongings didn't divert his attention from the computer for long.

Raph's stomach cinched even tighter. "And just so ya know," he said in a clipped voice, "pocket knives don't count. Nice try, though." There were more than a few of those on the pile, and Leo had agreed with him that they were probably an attempt to bulk up his arsenal.

"Knives are weapons," Don retorted without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Knives are weapons— _pocket_ knives are tools. Clean 'em yourself," Raph said as he strode back toward the door.

Don was typing again and he didn't argue further, though he did give a slight sigh. "Did you do the kunai, at least?"

"Yeah," Raph grunted. "Not that it needed it," he added in an undertone, making no attempt to disguise his contempt. The kunai had been a gift from April—he knew because she'd given one to each of them, and even though they were in fact quite functional, Don's was apparently for display only. Raph's own had been blooded a time or two—he just didn't see a point to owning weapons if all you were gonna do was look at them.

Don didn't even respond, so intent was he on his computer screen. Raphael's growing irritation spiked, and even though he hadn't had any intention of bringing it up right now, he blurted out, "Leo said to tell you to check my arm."

His brother glanced over his shoulder with an expression of  _oh, you're still here?_ His eyes slid briefly to Raph's arm before he turned back to his computer. "Uh, sure," he answered distractedly. "I'll do it later tonight."

"Ain't gonna be around later tonight."

"Well then,  _much_  later tonight."

"Or, you could do it right now, 'cause I'm fucking  _here_  right now, an' Leo said to do it!" Raph retorted, his volume rising with each word. And then, finally, he had his brother's full attention.

Don turned to him, slowly, and the eyes that connected with Raph's were both cool and slightly disdainful. "What, is your boo-boo bothering you?" he said, his face deadpan.

It was a stupid, juvenile remark, nothing worth getting worked up over, but it still made him want to knock his brother's head clean off his shell. By the smug look on Donatello's face, he knew it, too. Fuck.

Raph balled his hands into fists, but he kept them to himself. "Fine," he growled. " _You_  can tell Leo what you were doing that was so important you couldn't check it when I came by."

He had him there, and Don knew it. After a brief but wistful look at the computer monitor, he sighed and spun in his chair, clicking on the lamp next to his computer desk. "Let's get this over with," he muttered.

Raphael pulled up a chair and sat with his arm under the light as Don inspected the wound, pressing firmly along the edges. Raph didn't so much as glance directly at the computer screen, but every time he heard the short blip that signaled a new message, his stomach flipped a little.

"It's fine, healing well," Don said after a short appraisal, "but you should've let me stitch it. Then you wouldn't have to worry so much about it breaking open in practice." Then he glanced up knowingly at Raph. "…Or doing whatever you and Casey have planned for tonight."

A small jolt of surprise flashed through Raphael; he hadn't told anyone of his plans! But understanding came to him in time to stifle any outward reaction, because of  _course_  April had heard from Casey, and she would've mentioned it to Don over IM. Raph could have told his brother that their plans didn't include any extracurriculars of that nature, but he kept his mouth shut. None of his goddamn business what they did.

"Okay, then. You're good to go," Don said pointedly. He waited, his eyes echoing the dismissal as Raph rose, and watched as he left his room.

The moment Raphael was out the door, he heard the keyboard clicking again, and this time he resisted the urge to go back in and put his fist through the computer monitor. As he collected Mike's weapons and went to deliver them, he assured himself that it wouldn't have mattered who Don was IMing with, it was his  _attitude_  that Raph had a problem with. What, he wasn't important enough to get a few minutes of undivided attention when he was standing right there in front of him? Because what Don was doing was just  _so important_? Jeezus. It was pathetic, that's what it was, the way he acted around her. Not that Raph cared, or anything. Just 'cause Don and April both liked computers, and boring movies, and, and  _science_  didn't mean he knew everything about her.

He was still agitated when he passed Mikey on his way through the common area, curtly rejecting an invitation to play air hockey. His expression must have looked particularly black because Mike accepted his refusal without the usual pleading and pestering. Raph dumped the newly cleaned weapons on Mikey's bed before heading to the kitchen to grab a bite, and tried to focus his thoughts on his own plans rather than how much he absolutely didn't care what Don and April were up to.

The plan was to try and take the bikes out tonight, sort of work out the kinks and get things ready for the warm season. As soon as he finished eating he went up to the garage to check everything over while he waited for Casey. Aside from periodically starting up the bike and letting the motor run, he hadn't done anything with it all winter. He gathered up his gear—pants, boots, oversized jacket, gloves, helmet… and reflected that as freeing as it felt to hit the open road, it would be a lot  _more_  freeing if there wasn't so much clothing involved.

When Casey finally arrived, Raph knew he should've expected it… or at least considered the possibility. He  _should've_. After all, he knew she and Don just been messaging each other, and it had been a while since she'd been at the lair. But he didn't think of it. Didn't think of it at all until he saw two helmeted heads on board as Casey pulled into the entryway of the street-level section of the garage, and his mouth instantly went bone-dry even as his heart lurched painfully in his chest.

He'd been trying to figure out how to play it when he saw her next, figuring he had some time… but now here she was, lifting a leg neatly over the bike, pulling off her helmet with a tumble of red hair spilling free and smiling so easily, clearly not worried, as he was, that if he opened his mouth even a little he might throw up.

"Hey," she said brightly, and all Raph could do was stare, dumbly, and just try and fucking  _breathe_.

The delay of his response stretched so long that April's smile began to dissolve, and it was Casey, still sitting astride his bike, who finally saved him by revving the engine a little and calling, "You about ready?"

Raph turned his eyes to Casey, and finally found his voice. "Uh, yeah," he called above the thrumming of the engine. "Just lemme get suited up." He turned without another word and went directly to the back of the garage where his riding clothes were stashed.

"Okaaaay," April said, sounding slightly taken aback at the lack of greeting. "You boys have fun then, I guess. Try and stay out of trouble," she added frostily.

Raph went on suiting up as if he hadn't heard, forcing himself not to even look in her direction as she left. Seeing her in person again, even for a moment, had stripped any last shred of hope that his reaction would be less… extreme, this time. He felt the same unpleasant combination of conflicting sensations as he had before—a heady rush of heart-pounding adrenaline coupled with a feeling similar to claustrophobia, like the space was just too small, the air too stifling. But the most disconcerting part was that in spite of the physical discomfort, he wanted nothing so much as to be around her, even if that meant hanging out in the common area waiting for her to emerge from Don's lab from time to time. At least he'd get to  _see_  her, maybe talk to her briefly… assuming he could form any words, of course.

_No, godammit! Stick to the plan—time to hit the road with yer best buddy, remember?_

The plan. He had to remember the plan. He had to distance himself slowly… and after his reaction to seeing her just now, he knew that was going to be even more difficult than he thought.

* * *

  
Soon, he and Casey were on the open road… or at least as open as it got in the greater New York area. And maybe it had something to do with the fresh air, but once they just got to riding, Raph's head did seem to clear some. He focused on the road and the steadying vibration of the bike under him, and how next to get around Casey in their endless game of hopscotch. It took just enough mental concentration to keep his mind from wandering to other things. They reached their turnaround point, and agreed to meet up at one of their regular spots back in Manhattan for a little sustenance before calling it a night.

An hour or so later they pulled up their bikes around the corner from the late night sandwich shop, and Casey ran in for the food. The original plan had been to find a spot to eat before heading back, but the night had gotten so cold that they wussed out and decided to go back to the lair instead. Before they'd even pulled into the garage, Raph's mind was already running down possible reasons he could give why he'd rather eat here instead of going down the ostensible comforts of the lair. He didn't know what his brothers' plans were tonight, but he knew it wasn't a good idea to risk encountering April again. Once more, Casey unknowingly came to his rescue.

"Hey… you mind if we just… hang out up here?" Casey asked tentatively after they'd parked the bikes.

Raphael eased out a silent breath, his muscles relaxing somewhat, but he didn't want to seem too eager so he just gave a neutral shrug and answered, "Guess not."

"Cool. It's just, uh… I could kinda use a break from, uh… I mean, sometimes it's nice when it's just us guys. You know?"

Well. He had no trouble reading between the lines on that one. In fact, it was basically the same excuse he'd come up with himself—boys' night out, an' all that. So it made no sense, no sense it all, that it irked him a little coming from Casey.

"Yeah. Sure," he answered, glancing sidelong at his buddy as he dumped his clothing in a corner to be dealt with later.

They pulled up a couple of stepstools to sit on, and Casey handed over his portion of the food. They were quiet as they unwrapped their sandwiches and started eating, but all the while Raph's stomach was churning. One of the nice things about hanging out with Case was that neither of them expected the other to talk all the time, and Raph knew he could a' left it alone… that it would be  _better_  if he left it alone, but caution had never been his strong suit, and even a trace of anger made what little he had vanish out the window.

"So… I take it things have been tough on the home front lately," he commented, chewing as he spoke to feign a nonchalance he didn't feel. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know the, but for some reason he couldn't help himself. His stomach tied itself into knots as he waited for an answer.

Casey shrugged as he took a drink of his soda. "A little, I guess, but… I dunno. Just the usual," he answered, which told Raph nothing at all. Casey took another bite before elaborating, chewing as he spoke. "I mean, a while back we were arguing a lot, and April started buggin' me about seein' some shrink together, some couples counseling bullshit." He swallowed. "But she ain't brought it up in a while now, so that's a good sign, right?"

It was clearly a rhetorical, and Raph merely shrugged as he chewed another bite of sandwich, which tasted more like soggy cardboard with every passing moment.

"An' we ain't been fighting as much… maybe we've turned a corner." But for some reason, Casey didn't look like he believed that.

Raph didn't believe it either. The silence settled again, except for the crunching of chips and slurping of beverages. He glanced over at his friend, and at length he took the plunge and said, "Maybe… maybe you should do it."

Casey crumpled up the empty paper as he chewed the last of his sandwich. "Do what?"

"Go to, uh, counseling." And as soon as he said it, he wondered if it was possible to stuff his entire foot in his big fat fucking mouth. The subject of April and Casey's relationship was something he'd always kept out of—truthfully, it had never been of much interest to him anyway. And now, not only was he butting in, he was butting in to take April's side… at least, he was sure that's how it would seem to Casey.  _Smooth, real smooth_ , he berated himself.

Casey laughed incredulously as he looked over at him. "You fucking kiddin' me? You actually buy into that bullshit?"

He didn't. Or rather, hadn't. But now… he could only think of what  _he'd_  do if he was fortunate enough to be in Casey's place, what he wouldn't do to keep her, and suddenly it seemed a small thing to ask. He shrugged. "Not really, but I mean, if  _she_  wants to… couldn't hurt, right?"

Casey was giving him a look like he just couldn't believe Raph was being serious. He must've concluded he was, because suddenly he burst out, "Look, I don't need some stranger who don't even KNOW me telling me how to fix my life!"

"Right, I get it."  _Stop. Don't go any farther, just fucking quit right there_ , said some knowing inner voice, but maybe he was too used to ignoring it because he kept right on going. "But… maybe just the fact that you agreed to  _go_  would make her happy, an' then even if—"

"What the fuck, man. Why the hell are you on  _her_  side all of the sudden? What, has she been blabbing to you about this?!"

_There. Great. You fucking happy now?_  "Wha—no! And I ain't on anyone's  _side_ , ok?! I just thought if you're serious about wanting to fix things—"

"Oh, so everything's  _my_  fault?  _I'm_ not trying hard enough?!"

"That ain't—look, I'm sorry, ok?" Raph said, putting up his hands placatingly.  _Yeah, definitely should've kept my mouth shut._ "Sorry I said anything!" He paused, taking a deep breath, and muttered, "None a' my business anyway."

"Goddamn right it isn't!" The paper wrapper was now wadded into a tiny ball in Casey's hands, and he exhaled in a huff without making eye contact. Then he breathed out again, more slowly this time, and said, "Look, let's just drop it, ok?"

"Fine," he grunted. Raph wrapped up the remainder of his sandwich. He wasn't hungry anymore. No doubt his little brother the garbage disposal would make sure the rest of it didn't go to waste.

They parted for the night a short time later under an awkward truce, with Casey heading down to the lair to fetch April, and Raph making up an excuse about needing to retrieve something he'd stashed topside. Instead he went up to a rooftop overlooking the garage entrance and waited for them both to leave. He wished he had some booze stashed nearby to help pass the time… but he had nothing but his own thoughts.

Just what the hell was wrong with him? Everything had been going fine tonight until he just  _had_  to go sticking his nose where it didn't belong. And worse, instead of worrying about how he was going to make things up to his buddy… all he could think of was whether April was mad at him. No, not even that—it wasn't fear that she was mad… it was fear that maybe he'd hurt her, hurt her feelings when he'd been so cold to her. His stomach churned at the thought, and he fidgeted restlessly, waiting.

_Fuck fuck_ _ **fuck**_ _._ This wasn't part of The Plan at all.

It was maybe half an hour later that the garage door finally reopened, and two people sped away aboard Casey's bike. Raph let out a long breath, and made his way slowly down to street level and finally back to the lair. The common area was quiet and deserted, but there was a light on in the kitchen. Shocker—it was Mikey, rummaging in the refrigerator.

"Here, catch," Raph said from the kitchen entryway, simultaneously launching the remains of the sandwich at his brother's shell, and fuck it all if his kid brother didn't turn and catch the damn thing like it was nothing at all. Michelangelo squawked when he saw what he'd caught, and flashed him such a delighted smile that Raph almost felt bad he'd planned on eating the whole thing himself.

"Louie's! Thanks, Raph!" Then he craned his neck, eyeing the crumpled bag in Raph's hand. "Any chips leftover?"

Raph grumbled, but tossed the bag to his brother.

"Sweet!" Mike plopped down at the kitchen table, and tucked in without further ado. Mouth full, he looked up at Raph and said, "Diyouhavvagoorie?"

Fortunately, Raph was pretty used to interpreting mouthful-ese. "Not bad," he said with a shrug as he plucked a glass from the cabinet and poured himself some water. He sat down across from Mikey and sipped the water.

Mike swallowed. "Pick up any chicks?" he asked with a grin.

"Only a few," Raph answered with a half-smile. "Slow night. Did I, uh, miss anything good around here?" He was just inquiring in a  _general_  sense, not fishing for information on anyone in particular…

"Nah," Mike said, apparently too preoccupied with eating to elaborate. By the time Raph was done with his water, Mikey had finished eating and was wadding up the wrapper. "So whatcha up to now?" his brother asked.

Raph rose, glancing over at the digital display on the microwave before putting his glass next to the sink. "Just gonna turn in, I guess," he answered. No use being a wreck for training—late enough as it was.

"Yeah, me too. Unless you happened to get any cookies from Louie's?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, I'm out," Raph said with a smile and a shake of his head. "Night." He exited the kitchen area, but hadn't gone ten steps before he thought of something and stopped, turning back to his brother. "Is, uh… you happen to know if Leo's still awake?"

"He said goodnight a while ago," Mike answered as he cleared the remnants of his snack, "But he could be reading in his room or something. Why?"

Raphael shrugged. "Nothin' important." Maybe tomorrow he'd try some of that stuff Leo had mentioned; no need to go barging in on him at this time of night. He went back to his room, thoughts still churning

It was just as he entered his room that his phone rang. He glanced down at the caller ID, and instantly his heart began pounding.  _April_. He swallowed, took a moment to gather himself, and answered. "Hey."

" _Hi. Do you have a minute?"_ Her tone was crisp, businesslike.

"Um, sure. What's up?" He was holding the phone so tightly he was afraid he might break it, and he consciously relaxed his grip. Willing his heart to slow was a lost cause.

" _Well I was just wondering—what the hell was that, earlier?"_

He knew exactly what she was referring to, even without the slightly hostile tone, but before he'd even begun to formulate an answer, she went on.

" _And don't even try and pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, Raphael. I don't expect anything too warm and fuzzy from you, but after the time we've spent together lately, I don't think a simple greeting should be too much to ask. Should it?"_

Oookay, well at least he didn't have to go on wondering how she'd taken it. "Uh. I guess not," he managed, mentally flailing for a strategy. Meanwhile his heart continued pounding, and his grip had tightened involuntarily around the phone again.

" _Well good. At least we agree on that. So then what was with the cold shoulder?"_

Her tone hadn't softened in the least, and for some reason it set him slightly more at ease. Anger was something he knew, something he was familiar with. And he could picture  _exactly_  what her face would look like right now—eyes narrowed, jaw rigid, cheeks slightly flushed, but the rest of her expression impassive. In a strange way, it made him sort of proud of her that she'd decided to confront him instead of just letting it slide. "Um, I was, uh, just a little… distracted, I guess," he answered. Well that was true, anyway.

" _Distracted. Really. Because what it_ _ **seemed**_ _like was that you were treating me differently in front of Casey."_  She let the statement stand for a few seconds, and when he didn't respond, she must have taken it as confirmation because she continued on.  _"I don't know how much he's been telling you about… us, but I thought we were good enough friends that you wouldn't take sides. I mean, I don't want you to treat_ _him_ _any differently just because_ _we're_ _friends. The way you ignored me was mean and childish, and I don't deserve it. Relationships are complicated, and I'm just—"_

She stopped abruptly, and to his horror, Raph realized she was trying not to cry. This time his heart froze in his chest, just stopped beating altogether for a moment before plummeting straight down into his stomach.

"— _just disappointed that you think—"_  The words were strained, and she was having a hard time keeping her voice from breaking, but still struggled on.  _"—That you could think—I mean, it's not just one person at fault… and I'm sorry you're in the middle of this! I know that must be hard, but if, if you're mad at me, or, or upset or something, just please, if our friendship means anything to you, at least_ _t-talk_ _to me…"_ She paused, sniffing, and said in a fragile voice, _"Don't just freeze me out, okay?"_

This time Raph didn't have to think about how to respond; there was only one way he  _could_  respond. "I wasn't! I won't! I swear, okay? I didn't think—I mean, I didn't mean ta—fuck. Just, just don't cry, okay?"

At that, she gave a little choked sob that sounded like maybe it had a little laugh in it, and sniffed loudly.  _"Okay,"_  she croaked, and sniffed again before taking a deep, slow breath, trying to regain control.

"I didn't, ah, I ain't takin' sides—and for the record, Casey don't really say anything more than you do about… whatever. I mean, I know things have been rocky sometimes, or whatever, but that's all I know. You just, caught me in a bad mood. Wasn't personal. And… I'm sorry. For bein' a dick." He was seated on the floor of his bedroom now, with his shell to the wall, though he couldn't even remember getting there. Probably his legs wouldn't even support him at the moment. All he knew was that April was upset, and it was because of him. His own troubles, his own sufferings, even his carefully considered plan were suddenly swept away in the wake of her unhappiness.

She sniffed again, but her voice sounded much more even when she said,  _"Well now I just feel stupid."_  Then she laughed a little, a small, self-deprecating thing, though not entirely tear-free.  _"I'm sorry then, for jumping to conclusions. I guess I just… things just haven't been easy lately, you know? And when I thought maybe you had a grudge against me, it was just one more thing. The straw that broke the camel's back, or something. I know you're Casey's friend too, but hanging out with you has become like… a refuge for me. An escape from the stress in the rest of my life. And it scared me to think maybe I wouldn't have that anymore."_

Raphael's eyes were squeezed shut by this time, and he couldn't have spoken even if he wanted to. It was so…  _April_ , this kind of frank confession, and his heart ached anew.  _I'm her refuge. Not Casey. Not Donatello—me._  But his throat was locked up tight, burning painfully. He couldn't say it back, and he wouldn't have said it back in any case because it wasn't his way, but he felt it. He felt what she spoke of; it resonated in him, in every painful breath he drew.

And he was supposed to let her go.

She sighed on the other end of the line.  _"Anyway,"_  she continued, sounding much calmer,  _"sorry for the drama."_

"It's okay," he managed with difficulty. He felt sick inside, and helpless. He'd made her feel better for now, but what did that matter when ultimately, he was going to end up hurting her again when he actually  _did_  stop seeing her?

_Gradually, though_ , he told himself, and that thought calmed him slightly. Couldn't quit on her all at once—just pull back, a little at a time. That was the plan.

" _So if we're okay…"_ she continued, _"then do you want to come over Friday night? No waterworks; I swear. We can just hang."_

No. Bad. Bad idea.

"…Yeah, okay," he heard himself say.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	12. The Need

The apartment was only dimly lit when he arrived, and when there was no response to his knock, Raphael found the window unlocked and let himself in. "April?" he called hesitantly, scanning around for signs of life. Had he gotten the time wrong?

"Be right there! Just make yourself comfortable!" she called from the direction of the bedroom.

His stomach squirmed at the sound of her voice, but he made his way to the family room, giving himself a pep talk along the way.  _Stay calm, man. Just keep it together for a couple hours, an' you'll be off the hook._ He took a deep breath and grabbed the TV remote before settling on the couch.

He didn't have to wait long. A short time later he heard her approaching, and when he glanced to the side to greet her, he immediately did a double-take, for a second not entirely believing what he was seeing. By the time his brain caught up with his eyes and assured him that he was  _not_  in fact hallucinating, she had come to a halt directly in front of him. She wore a robe, slate gray with a satiny sheen to it, and even though it was closed and tied at her waist, the thin fabric clung to her body in a way that made it hard not to try and imagine what was underneath. But it wasn't just the robe—the way she'd walked in, her movements sure and smooth, and the way she was standing in front of him now… it wasn't just that she was  _aware_ of his attention, it was that she expected it. Commanded it, almost. After a moment of open-mouthed staring, he dragged his eyes up to her face.

"Hi Raphael," she said in a throaty voice.

He was frozen in place, mouth still agape and completely unable to draw a breath.  _A joke. It has to be a prank_ , he thought his mind finally seizing on the only logical explanation for what he was seeing. "Very funny," he croaked, though it was not in the least bit funny. Not funny at all. And yet down, deep down underneath the shock, was a faint unfurling of hope that made the pit of his stomach go liquid in a heartbeat.

"I wasn't exactly going for funny," she said with the barest hint of a smile just touching one corner of her mouth, and then she moved forward and came in close,  _way_  too close, extending one slim white arm to balance herself on the backrest of the couch as she began easing herself onto his lap. Her movements were fluid, her smooth legs gliding slowly up alongside his thighs as she moved to straddle him, and Raph's mind was still fighting this, telling him it couldn't be real, there was no fucking  _way_  it could be real, so his physical response was delayed. By the time he processed the fact that she was climbing on top of him, all he could do was press himself stiffly as far back as possible into the couch.

"April, what—what the hell are you  _doing_?" he said, a note of hysteria creeping in by the end. His mouth was dry, his heart pounding painfully, and yet the feel of her skin on his, the way it seemed to scorch him where their legs touched, was already flooding his senses, the warmth spreading from the points of contact until it burned through his entire body.

"Sshhhhhhh," she shushed him gently, and there was no long any trace of a smile on her face. Instead her eyes bored into his, the green turned slightly gray with the color of the robe she wore, but still so vivid and clear, so alive. She settled herself lightly on him, and his tail gave a throb in response and began to fill. April regarded him for a moment before calmly reaching down to take one of his hands, which was pressed, fingers splayed, into the cushion of the couch. Her hands were warm, steady, and without breaking eye contact she guided his hand on to her right thigh, just below the hemline of the robe.

Raph started at the touch, his hand jerking back like he'd been burned, but April merely took hold again and guided it firmly back to her thigh, her slender hand pressed over his massive one to keep it there. He was breathing now, but it was in quick pants, making him feel slightly light-headed. More words weren't even a remote possibility; there was nothing—nothing but his palm against her skin, and her eyes locked into his. Then she drew his hand gently upward, gliding it along her outer thigh and then up her hip to her waist, the cool silk of the robe bunching up as his hand rose higher.  _Oh jeezus._

Raph fought a sudden rise of nausea that somehow seemed to coincide with a surge of heat in his groin, and with each beat of his heart the pressure in his tail increased. He knew he wasn't going to be able to keep himself in much longer… because not once as his hand travelled up had he encountered any fabric, any elastic. Underneath the robe, there was nothing but bare skin, and there, directly in front of him, were the dangling ties of the belt holding the robe closed. Everything he'd been fantasizing about was right here…

All he had to was pull.

_No! No, I can't—we can't do this!_  His brain was still fighting this, but for some reason he didn't get up. Didn't push her off. Didn't move. Instead his wide eyes slid up to her face, and April just looked back at him, unfaltering... accepting. And something in him quieted. Suddenly there were no more objections, no more doubts. No one else existed but the two of them, right here, right now. Then he exhaled, simultaneously retracing the path down her thigh with his hand. As he inhaled deeply, he ran his hand slowly back up, this time savoring the feel of her skin. April sighed and closed her eyes.

When his hand reached her hip again he lingered there for a moment, registering the curve of her waist and the slight jut of her hip bone under his massive, calloused hand, and heat flared through him anew. He swallowed, dry-mouthed and literally aching with desire, and reached out with his other hand to take hold of one of the ties of the robe…

…Then awoke with a gasp, clutching the sides of his hammock to keep from falling out. He was sweating, shaking, as if he'd just had a horrendous nightmare, but the uncomfortable fullness in his tail was proof it had not been—at least, not the typical kind.

He sat trying to calm himself, rein in his racing heart, but it was difficult with the sensations still so fresh, and the aftereffects so… pressing. Waking up with this type of urgent situation had not been uncommon when he was a teenager, especially during the springtime, and he knew what to do to take care of it. Which was fine when he'd been dreaming of someone unreachable, someone he didn't know. Hell, sometimes he hadn't even been able to remember  _what_ he'd been dreaming of, he'd just woken up with a raging hard-on. But it felt somehow wrong… perverse… to undertake any self-ministrations when it was April he'd been dreaming of.

_Oh god…_ He clutched the sides of his hammock even harder, his breathing quickening against his will as he remembered the heat of her skin burning under his palm, the cool silk of the robe trailing along his legs as she climbed on his lap… But worst of all was the memory of how she'd looked at him, so steady and direct, like there was nothing to worry about, nothing at all wrong with what was happening.

Abruptly he half scrambled, half fell out of the hammock in his desire to get vertical, hoping that would snap him back to reality. Hurriedly he got to his feet and then leaned back against the nearest wall, breathing and waiting for some of the sensations to fade. It did seem to help some to be standing instead of lying, and though he still didn't feel quite steady on his legs, as soon as he felt calmer he went and switched on a light, which helped chase away some of the remaining haze of sleep.

The pressure in his tail began to subside as well, but in its place rose a familiar restlessness, a dark thrall of need that only violence seemed to be able to dispel. Raph paced in his room for a while, tensing and releasing his muscles in static contractions to help release some energy… at least until he could find a better outlet. He paused only to put his mask and belt on, and as soon as he felt he could leave without risk of embarrassment if he happened to run into anyone else, he crept silently out. The lair was quiet—unsurprising at this hour—and Raphael, sure of his destination, took a shortcut by vaulting over the second floor railing instead of going down the stairs. It was early enough that he could go topside and still make it back in time for training, and the pull was strong because nothing was as satisfying in his present state as a real live opponent—the smell of sweat and blood and finally fear as he taught some scumbag a lesson he wouldn't forget.  _That_ was what he needed. Then he could return a little more clear-headed for training.

The common area was empty when he passed by, the kitchen dark, and Raphael had already passed the open door of the dojo when he abruptly came to a halt in the corridor. Ahead was the exit, the quickest way to the tunnels if he wanted to go topside, and though the pull, the  _need_  hadn't diminished, for some reason he heard his brother's words from the previous day in his head, spoken so clearly it was as if he was standing right there.  _Well, you're serious about this now. Aren't you?_

With a breath, he turned his head to look back at the dojo, as if he'd actually see Leonardo there… but he was still alone. He hesitated, looking back at the exit and then slowly to the dojo again. Then he closed his eyes, cursed softly, and reluctantly turned to retrace his steps back to the dojo.  _Fuck. Fucking Leonardo_ , he fumed inwardly as he turned on the lights and approached the heavy punching bag. He muttered more curses, mostly directed at his stupid know-it-all older brother as he wrapped his hands, and then began to work over the bag.

It wasn't as good as a real flesh and blood opponent, not nearly as good, but at least it was an outlet—and one he sorely needed right now. He was relentless in his assault on the punching bag, landing blows without letup, but still the fire inside him blazed, pushing him on until his chest was heaving and his lungs were beginning to burn. He was so fixated on his activity that he wasn't even aware someone else had entered the dojo until they spoke right behind him.

"If you  _insist_  on doing that in the middle of the night, is there any way you could do it more quietly?"

Raphael spun at the voice and held a defensive crouch, panting heavily. Nope, not hearing things this time; it actually  _was_  Leonardo. Just perfect. He didn't even have the decency to look  _tired_ when he was woken up in the middle of the night. Raph offered no apology—offered no words at all in fact. He was not in the mood to be chided, especially when he'd already fought off the impulse to find a more satisfying, and no doubt quieter, opponent topside. Instead of giving an answer he merely clenched his jaw and glared.

Leonardo sighed once he realized he wasn't going to get any more of a response than that. "Trouble sleeping?" he queried, not unkindly. He looked at Raph in that way of he had, taking in all of the details with just a quick scan. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Raph was quiet for a moment, just catching his breath as he studied his brother, but he didn't relax his guard. "Yeah… okay," he answered at last, still breathing heavily.

His brother look surprised but pleased, and gave him a slight smile. "Right. Good. Well then… why don't we go somewhere more comfortable?" he said, turning to lead the way.

Just the fact that he  _bought_  it told Raph that however fresh he might look, Leonardo actually was quite tired, but even tired he sensed Raphael's lunge and turned in time to partially deflect the blow intended to take him off his feet. Leo stumbled backward a little, defending as best he could and trying to regain his footing as Raph pressed the attack.

Raphael's pulse was thundering in his ears.  _Now_ _this_ _is better_ , he thought with savage glee. "Great. Let's... talk," he said, the words broken up by the effort of his exertions. "I'll go first." Leonardo retreated but Raph stayed with him, throwing a continuous barrage of jabs and kicks to prevent his brother from fully recovering. "First of all, if I wanted to talk…" With a feint and a whirl, he swept out with his foot and took Leo's legs right out from under him. Leo was quick—he didn't go down completely but transitioned into sort of a sloppy roll, still wisely trying to retreat. He was fast all right… but not fast enough. His brother was unarmed, so Raph left his weapons sheathed, instead tackling him and swiftly locking in an arm bar there was no hope of escaping—not if Leonardo wanted to avoid a broken bone or a dislocated shoulder, anyway.

The leader knew better than to make it harder on himself by struggling, so with Leo's scowling face pressed into the dojo mat, Raph went on. "If I wanted to talk," he panted, "Do ya really think I'd be in here, pounding on my bag?" He leaned in closer so his face was practically alongside Leo's, and answered for him in a low voice. "I'm in here 'cause I was in the mood to kick some ass—thanks for volunteering."

At that he released Leo's arm and jumped back, grinning wickedly, the blood fairly singing in his veins. As he'd hoped, when Leonardo rolled over there was a spark of anger in his eyes. The leader stood up, slowly, trying to look dignified. "I think a simple 'no thanks' would've been sufficient," he said stiffly, dusting himself off. But Raph could see it—Leo was pissed.

Raphael's grin broadened. "But not nearly as much fun," he retorted. Then he lunged again, only this time his brother was ready. He fended off Raph's initial onslaught with apparent ease, but even though Leonardo's face was impassive, Raph could read the concentration there, in the set of his jaw and the slow, even breathing pattern. Then Leo rallied and took the offensive, scoring a couple of good blows. He was still warming up, Raph knew—it was going to be a good match.  _Now this is more like it_ , he thought. If he couldn't beat on a real scumbag, he'd take a pissed-off Leonardo.

As Leo got warmed up his ferocity increased, and Raph knew he was out to teach him a lesson if he could. They went back and forth with no letup between attacks, no chance for a breather, and though Raphael was beginning to feel the strain, he gloried in it. They had always been pretty evenly matched, each taking home their share of victories when they sparred. Raph was more heavily muscled and probably technically stronger, but Leo had come back from his extended training with almost unfathomable stamina. Seriously, the guy was like the fucking Energizer bunny these days. If it came down to too long of a match, Leo would probably win, so Raph held nothing back and watched for any opening where he might be able to close in and use his strength to its best advantage.

He attacked repeatedly and furiously, until his breath was coming in rasps, and though he scored a few hits of his own, he hadn't yet managed to take his brother down again. He pushed on, trying to ignore the exhaustion, and at the same time reveling in it. This was exactly what he needed, and though he'd love to defeat Leonardo for the second time that night, the outcome was secondary to the fighting itself. His brother seemed to sense he was tiring and redoubled his efforts, landing several punishing blows, including an uppercut that slammed into his jaw hard enough for him to see stars. Instead of pressing the attack while he had the advantage, though, Leo merely stepped lightly out of range. It was then that Raph began to suspect what kind of punishment he was actually in for.

Raphael spat bloody saliva out of his mouth. "Fuck you!" he managed, the words coming out as ragged as his breathing. "Don't fucking hold back on me! Just do it!"

Leo eyed him coolly. "You're… the one… who picked the fight," he said, chest heaving. "Next time… maybe you'll think twice." Then he moved in again, and this time Raph was the one backpedaling, trying to escape, or at least mitigate the furious onslaught. It wasn't long before he went down, but as before Leo stopped and waited for him to recover. Raphael was unsteady, exhausted, barely able to breathe, but he pulled himself up because… well, because fuck Leo, that's why.

Then he gathered himself and charged his brother at full speed, hoping Leo wouldn't be prepared for that. He anticipated Leonardo's side step and knelt at the last moment, sweeping a leg low. Leo sprang up to avoid the sweep, and then transitioned to a jump kick that landed square in the middle of Raph's torso, knocking him back onto his shell. The plates of his plastron protected him somewhat of course, but the force of the kick still knocked the wind out of him, and all he could do was roll feebly while he tried desperately to breathe, like a fish out of water.

Leo stood over him, watching impassively. "You done yet?" he said finally, his breathing almost as labored as Raph's.

In answer, Raphael merely rose slowly to his feet.

Leo shrugged. "Suit yourself."

What followed after that was not technically sparring anymore—sparring required some amount of back and forth, and the match had devolved into Raph getting taken down, and stubbornly standing up again for more punishment. At last there came a time when he tried to stand, but his body just wouldn't obey. All he could do was lie there gasping with his face against the mat.

After a minute, Leo came and crouched next time him. "Now?" he asked simply.

"Now," Raph agreed, his voice hardly more than a croak.

Leo leaned in closer, panting as he said, "I'm going… to have to… hear the word."

" _Mairimashita_ ," he rasped. The formal surrender. His brother was wise to insist upon it, or Raph could technically still renew the match if he chose. Dojo rules. But right now he wasn't faking. He barely had the energy to speak, much less fight back.

"Thank god," Leo said, and he flopped gracelessly onto the mat beside Raph. They both stayed that way for a while, breathing, recovering. At length, and sounding much less winded, Leonardo said, "Is your arm okay?"

Of course that was Leo's first thought—Raph could only imagine how guilty his brother would feel if he was responsible fore re-opening a wound he'd inflicted in the first place. "Ummm… dunno," he answered. His face was turned the wrong way, and any amount of movement was wholly unappealing at the moment. "Is it bleeding?"

His brother pulled himself slowly into a sitting position, and leaned over him to check. "No."

"Then it's fine," Raph muttered, his eyes closed.

"And the rest of you?"

Raph took a moment to assess himself before responding. On one hand, he felt like he'd just been hit by a truck—no, an entire fleet of trucks—and he didn't have much time to recover before their regularly scheduled training began. On the other hand, that inner burn, the fire, the need for violence was gone, replaced by the sort of exhaustion that muffled everything, even emotion. Which was pretty much what he'd been going for. "Fine. More or less," he answered honestly. "You?"

"Same. You know, considering I was woken in the middle of the night and dragged into a high-intensity sparring match."

"Could've walked away," Raph mumbled.

"Raph, you  _attacked_  me. Twice."

"So? You think that shit would've worked on Don or Mike?"

Leonardo was quiet for a minute, processing that. "No… probably not," he said at last. "You knew. You knew if you pushed the right buttons, I wouldn't be able to walk away."

Raph could tell it was mere observance of fact, not an accusation. He said nothing, and knew Leo was filing it away in that strategic brain of his.

"So… what now?" Leonardo asked.

"What time is it?" Raph grunted.

"Um… almost 4:30."

"Mmmph. Guess I'll go back to sleep. Until practice." He figured it was a safe bet there wouldn't be any more dreams—he was too damn tired for dreams.

"Okay. You want some help up?"

"Up?"

"So you can go back to bed."

"What's the point? Just gonna end up right here again in a few more hours,"he said, eyes still closed, body unmoving _._

"What, so… you're just going to sleep? Right here?"

"Why not?" Raph squinted up at him, though he knew very well why not.

Leo's mouth tightened. "Raphael, you will NOT sleep in the dojo," he said, and Raph could tell by his tone that it was not due to concern for his comfort.

"I was just kidding. Jeezus."  _Wouldn't want to desecrate the sacred dojo by leaving my battered, beaten body on the floor any longer than absolutely necessary._  With that he began the slow process of trying to peel himself off of the mat.

Leonardo just sat quietly, watching as Raph levered himself up with his arms first, and slowly drew his legs in until he was more or less sitting up. That, he decided, was far enough for the time being. He flexed his arms and legs slowly and then opened and closed his mouth a few times, massaging his jaw. "Nice uppercut," he said. He could feel the impact of that blow all the way down into his neck and shoulders, and he knew he'd really be suffering from it later.

"Thanks. Nice arm bar," Leo replied.

Raph shrugged. "Well, I took you by surprise."

"Even so, it was tight," his brother said. "No grappling or fumbling—you saw the opening and got it. That takes a lot of precision."

Raph just shrugged again and began rubbing one of his shoulders. This type of exchange, and the mutual appreciation for each other's skills, was pretty typical for them after a good match these days, but it hadn't always been so. Their rivalry used to be more… well, personal. More vindictive, like they were constantly out to try and prove once and for all who was better. Seemed stupid now, but that was how it was.

Leonardo used to be what could be termed a martial arts purist. Any street fighting tactics that didn't strictly fit within a specific discipline Leo had condemned as "fighting dirty." Raph had always argued that the tactics were legitimate— _anything_  you could use to defeat your opponent was legitimate—but the honorable Leonardo would not be swayed.

That is, until he'd returned from Costa Rica.

They'd never talked about it, really, but Raph had felt it, the shift in attitude—especially after their rooftop blowout. Suddenly Leo showed genuine appreciation for some of his less "traditional" maneuvers, and after spending so much time fighting in armor that restricted his speed and movements, Raph had a lot of them. Leonardo even occasionally asked him to show him how he'd done something. It was validation he'd rarely gotten from his older brother in the past, and Raph could hazard a guess as to what it stemmed from. He'd seen the scars on Leo's body, and on rare occasions something even more revealing in his eyes. During his absence, Leo had learned a truth that Raph had felt in his gut for a long time—in real life, technique didn't mean shit. Survival was all that counted.

"So? You wanna tell me what that was all about?" Leo said after a couple more minutes of stretching.

"Already told ya."

"Right. Sudden urge to kick some ass."

"Yup."

"In the middle of the night."

"Good a' time as any."

Leo sighed audibly. "Come on, Raph." When that got no response, he said, "Do I have to thrash you again?"

Raph snorted. "Like you could," he shot back, but he wasn't quite as confident in that as he sounded.

Leo sighed again. "I just think if you  _told_  me, maybe I'd—"

"Jeezus Leo, would you fucking take a hint already?!" he interrupted. Evasive measures apparently weren't working. Time to be more direct. "I don't. Want. To talk about it! So get off my shell!"

His brother didn't answer right away—didn't even look at him, just stared down at the dojo mat while he did butterfly stretches. "Okay," he said quietly after a short stretch of silence. "I'll back off. But can I just ask one more thing?"

"You can ask," Raph said warily.

"Should I be…" Leo hesitated, but finally went on. "Should I be worried?"

Leonardo's dark eyes came up to meet his, and Raph could see by way his brow cinched and the imploring look on his face that he already  _was_  worried. Big shocker there.

"Hell yeah you should be. Because I ain't gonna forget this. Next time we get paired up for sparring, I'm gonna  _wreck_  you."

Leo didn't rise to the bait, or even crack a smile. "I'm serious," he said evenly. "You're distracted, worried, not sleeping… Tonight you ended up in the dojo, but tomorrow night…?" He let the rest of the question hang unspoken, his eyes flicking back and forth as he tried to read an answer in Raph's.

Raphael returned his gaze for a moment without responding, and then looked down. His brother didn't know how close he'd come to bypassing the dojo already. "What're you askin', Leo?" he said gruffly. If his brother wanted him to promise not to go topside, he was asking too much.

The leader looked down thoughtfully before answering. "I just… I just want you to know that if you… I mean, if you're ever tempted to resume your old nocturnal…  _habits_ ," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I hope you'll consider talking to me first."

_Ah. My 'nocturnal habits.' So that's why he's pushing so hard on this._ Raph had to admire his brother's technique. There was no muscle behind this suggestion, no unspoken "or else." It was an appeal, plain and simple. And he had some idea, noting the tension in Leo's posture, of how difficult it was for him to curb his natural controlling tendencies—not like they'd ever had any effect on Raph anyway, as his brother knew better than anyone.

Raph sighed a little himself this time. "This has nothing to do with Nightwatcher, okay?" he said quietly.

Leo looked like he  _wanted_ to believe him.

"Anyway, I'm handling it."

His brother studied his eyes for a few more seconds. "Okay. Well, I'm here," he said with a shrug. "If you need me."

"Sure. I'll keep that in mind if I have another sudden urge to kick some ass."

"Mmm hm," Leo said with a quirk of an eye ridge. "Because that worked out  _so well_  for you this time."

Raph gave a surprised bark of laughter. "Fuck you," he said with a grin. "I was already gettin' tired before you came in. Next time, I'll just drag you outta bed while I'm still fresh."

"Sure. Anytime," Leo said earnestly.

Raph snorted, shaking his head.

"I'm serious, bro," his brother persisted. "If that's what you need."

As Raphael met his brother's concerned eyes once again, he suddenly felt the weight of his secret was almost more than he could bear. It pressed on him, squeezing his chest like a vise, and he looked down and swallowed hard against the burning in his throat. Would it really be so bad to tell someone? Just let it out? He swallowed again, and was gathering the nerve to speak when he felt a hand settle gently on his shoulder. It jarred him, that touch, and suddenly all barriers snapped back up, like pushing a button on a force field. Whatever temptation he'd felt to unburden himself was firmly shut away.

"Raph," Leo said with quiet intensity, his hand firming slightly on Raph's shoulder. "Whatever it is, it's okay."

But for Raphael the moment had passed, leaving only horror at what he'd almost done... and that was quickly superseded by anger. He breathed deeply, drawing in the anger, letting it course through him, and then he looked up again to meet Leonardo's eyes. "What I need," he growled, "Is for you to fucking LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME HANDLE MY OWN GODDAMN PROBLEMS!" Then he stood so abruptly that he stumbled a little, and when Leo reached out reflexively to help steady him Raph shoved him— _hard_ —and turned on heel to leave the dojo.

_Serves him right_ , he fumed as he strode out.  _Gotta learn to mind his own fucking business._ But the surge of anger was already giving way to a sick feeling deep in the pit of his stomach.  _Tomorrow. I'll work things out tomorrow. Right now I just need to sleep._  Then he flopped into his hammock and fell into merciful unconsciousness.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	13. Down Time

Although according to the clock several hours had passed, Raphael  _felt_  like he'd only been asleep a few minutes when his alarm went off, and it was tough resisting the temptation to fall back into his hammock. His neck was so locked up from Leo's uppercut he could barely turn it, his eyes felt grainy and hot, and it seemed like every muscle in his body ached. He didn't wanna get up, and he really, really didn't want to go to practice.

He got up anyway.

Raph shuffled, zombie-like, into the kitchen to find Mike and Don bickering over the last of the strawberry jelly, and a bleary-eyed Leonardo sipping tea at the table.

He glanced hopefully at the coffee pot, but Don caught the look and shook his head. "Sorry, you'll have to make more."

Raph grumbled, but headed instead to the cupboard for cereal. He didn't really have the time to wait for fresh coffee to brew, and it wasn't like it would fix his neck, which was the bigger problem. He rummaged around, looking for a box that was relatively full.

"Hey Raph," Michelangelo piped up, "we usually keep the brains in the fridge, dude." When Raph didn't answer, he prodded, "That is still the food of choice for the undead, isn't it?"

"Maybe he got his fill on brains last night," Don remarked snidely.

Don had apparently made some assumptions about his night out with Casey, but Raph didn't really give a fuck. He instead took a seat at the table and proceeded to eat mechanically, keeping his head down.

"What, did you end up going back out last night?" Mike asked, sounding a little confused.

"No. He didn't," Leonardo cut in, and there was a note of finality in his tone that even silenced Mikey. "Dojo in five," he said curtly, and he cleared his dishes and left.

After he was gone, Mike muttered sullenly, "Sheesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Great," Don muttered as he carried his own dishes to the sink. "This should be a fun practice."

Raph was the last one to leave the kitchen, but he made it to the dojo in time—no need to dig his hole any deeper. It was apparent after a while that Leonardo was giving him the freeze-out, but there wasn't much he could do about that right now. Besides, he had other problems—like the fact that any time he tried to move his head more than a quarter turn in either direction, a spasm of pain shot through his neck and shoulders. Like the fact that today was Thursday, Friday night he was supposed to see April, and he still had no fucking idea how he was going to handle it. Not to mention the stomach-flipping possibility of another round of dreams that might make it impossible to sleep again tonight…

But right now, he had to make it through practice. Warm-ups had loosened things up a little, but once Splinter arrived, he spotted the problem immediately.

"Raphael, what is wrong with your neck?" the rat asked as soon as they'd gathered for instruction.

Raph fidgeted a little before he remembered he hadn't done anything wrong this time. Sparring on their own time was encouraged, and injury was always a risk, no matter how mild the activity. "Uh, just a little tight from sparring, Sensei."

The rat's brows went up a little at that. "Who were you sparring with? When?"

Raphael cleared his throat lightly. "Leo, Sensei. Last night." Technically it was earlier this morning, but he didn't want to go inviting more questions.

Splinter's eyes flicked to Leo, resting on him a moment before moving back to Raph. "I see," he said simply. "And you are fit for practice?"

"Yes, Sensei," he answered, but a glance up at his father's face told him the rat was not buying that so easily. Raph shifted a little, and then reluctantly added, "As long as I'm, you know… careful."

Splinter exhaled subtly, but otherwise showed no reaction. Raphael kept his head down and awaited the verdict. Their sensei didn't let them off of training easily, but on the other hand he might not want to risk a minor injury becoming a serious one just for practice.

"Donatello," the rat said finally, and the purple-masked turtle looked up. "After I explain today's lesson, you will check Raphael and report to me. Then I will make a decision."

" _Hai_  Sensei," Donatello answered with a slight dip of his head.

With that Splinter moved on, swiftly summarizing the goal of today's training. Luckily it was fairly straightforward—just working on fighting patterns… or rather, breaking them. Because they fought each other so frequently, they naturally became accustomed to one another's favorite moves and how to counter them, but having the same opponents all the time also made it more likely they would become too "fixed" in their techniques, something their sensei was always trying to prevent.

As soon as the day's agenda had been outlined, Raph went with Don to the far end of the dojo and, at his brother's indication, took a seat on one of the workout benches. He couldn't quite read Don's mood, wasn't sure if he was put out, concerned, or just meekly following orders, but he supposed it didn't matter. He could tell his brother was already in "doctor mode," his brain somehow walling off everything that didn't immediately pertain to the task at hand. It was evident in the way he scanned carefully over Raphael's body without once looking him directly in the eyes.

"So, how'd you hurt your neck?" Don asked, taking a seat on the bench beside him and gesturing for Raph to turn and face him.

"Sparring, like I said," Raph answered as he turned to straddle the bench.

" _How_  during sparring?" Don clarified.

"Oh. Um, uppercut to the jaw."

"Uh huh. Which side? Never mind, I see," he said, angling Raph's head slightly to get a better look at his jaw. Then he placed a hand on either side of his neck, pressing gently.

"It's just stiff, that's all," Raph volunteered. "I'm fine."

Don grunted noncommittally, and with quiet directives instructed Raph to turn his head first one way, then another, and then had him squeeze his fingers with each hand in turn. "Have you taken anything for it?" Don asked as he carefully manipulated Raph's shoulder joints.

"No. Didn't really have a chance to."

Donatello nodded absently at his answer as he continued his examination. It seemed like Don wasn't paying much attention to the answers to his questions because he never paused in what he was doing, but Raph had been through this enough times by now to know it was all part of his process. Every little piece of information that came in was being assimilated and analyzed, and only when he had all the data would he stop and talk about it.

Donatello finished up the exam by checking the cut on his arm again, and even put a wrist briefly to his forehead before sitting back a little. He was quiet a moment, looking pensive, and finally he took a long breath and at last met Raph's eyes. "Time to level with me now, Raph—how are you feeling? Really?" This time his eyes weren't wandering, only flicking back and forth slightly as he awaited Raphael's answer.

Raph shifted a little. "Jus' stiff, like I said. Sore."

"And you and Leo were just sparring?"

The emphasis on 'just' was delicate, but it was there, and Raph bristled instantly. "You think I was lyin' to  _Splinter_?"

"Well you don't exactly have the cleanest track record," his brother half-muttered.

"You got somethin' to say to me, then fucking say it!" he flared, and Don backed down immediately, putting his hands up in a gesture meant to calm him.

"No! Hey, I wasn't—I just thought maybe you were…  _downplaying_  what happened, that's all. I'm just trying to get a picture of what's going on." When Raph continued to stare at him, stony-faced, he hastened to explain. "Look, I'm not doubting you, okay? It's just, with you insisting I check your arm yesterday, and then April asking me if you were okay, saying you seemed a little… off, I'm just trying to make sure I'm not missing something."

A jolt went through Raphael's chest upon hearing her name, and for a moment he could hardly breathe.  _She was asking about me, worried about me._  But he gave himself a mental shake to snap out of it when he realized Don seemed to be waiting for some sort of a response from him. "I'm fine, okay? A little tired, didn't sleep too good the last couple a' nights, but fine."

Don was watching him closely—thankfully he was only inquiring about Raph's  _physical_  well-being. Unlike Leonardo, he was unlikely to go digging for anything deeper.

"And your neck?" his brother persisted. "Does it feel like it might be an actual injury, like did you have acute pain right when you got hit, or does it just feel like what you'd expect after being clobbered by Leo?"

Raph turned his head a little, testing, evaluating the discomfort before answering. "Pretty much like I'd expect. I get this, like, bolt of pain when I move wrong, but it wasn't like that until after I slept on it. Last night it was basically fine."

Donatello nodded. "Okay. Thanks." He glanced over to the other end of the dojo where the rest of their family was had already begun practice. Then he sighed a little, softly. "I guess I'll go report to Master Splinter, then."

Raph followed his gaze across the dojo, and then looked back at his brother. "What're you gonna tell him?"

"I'll tell him your jaw is bruised, your neck and shoulder muscles are tight, and your bilateral cervical rotation is severely inhibited, but if you had sprained a cervical vertebra, or slipped a disc or something, you'd be in serious pain, and it would probably be translating down into your arms. Luckily, there doesn't appear to be any serious injury."

He was used to filtering out his brother's needlessly technical explanations, so all he really got out of that was the last bit, but it was all he needed. No serious injury.

Then Donatello hesitated a moment, taking a slow breath and meeting Raph's eyes directly before continuing. "So…I'm going to recommend that you take some medicine to reduce inflammation… and that you sit out today's practice. And maybe tomorrow's, too. We'll see how you are in the morning."

Raph sputtered a moment before he could find his voice. "What!? You just said there's nothing wrong with me!"

"I know, I know," he said with a bob of his head, "But necks are funny things. If you did any more damage before it's recovered, you could really screw it up. And if that happened, it could turn into a life-long cycle because neck and back injuries, even once they're healed, tend to recur more easily. Not to mention the fact that if your spine got damaged your spinal  _cord_  could be involved, and I don't think you want to end up as a quadriplegic just because you were too stubborn to take a day off of training. It's just not a good risk, Raph. Rest it, take ibuprofen, and you should be good as new in a day or two."

A day or two? With nothing to do? _Not_  what he needed right now. "Okay, so what  _can_  I do, then? Katas?" he said, casting about for something non-strenuous.

Don shook his head.

"Free weights?"

Another firm shake of the head.

"Well can I at least do some stretching, for chrissake?" Surely he couldn't say no to that.

"Nope."

"Well  _what_  then?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Well, I suppose you could meditate. But it would be best if you were resting your head on something while you did it."

Raph leveled a look at his brother. "You gotta be fucking kidding me," he said in a low monotone.

"Not kidding. The neck muscles are postural; as long as you're holding your own head up, they're always flexed. To fully rest them, you really need to lie down, or sit back on the couch with your head resting on a pillow. The better you rest today, the higher the chances of being able to join in for training tomorrow," he added.

Raph muttered a string of curses under his breath, frantically trying to think of any sort of loophole in Don's instructions. The last thing he wanted right now was down time.

Donatello said was looking at him a little strangely now. "Look, it's really not that bad. This fanatical commitment to training is usually more Leo's shtick. You basically have a 'get out of jail free' card—do you know what Mikey would give to be in your place right now?"

"Yeah, well, some of us don't do so good sittin' on our tails all day," he snapped.

"Really. Didn't seem to be a problem for you when  _I_  was in charge," Don said dryly.

"Yeah, that's it, lazy ol' me, out all night puttin' criminals away."

For a moment Don looked like he was going to retort, but then he took a deep breath and schooled his expression of irritation to one of professional detachment. "As much as I'd  _love_  to continue on with this meaningful conversation, Splinter's waiting on me. If I were you, once Splinter excuses you, I'd go back to sleep—you look like you could use it. And don't worry about missing training. Once you're better, I'm sure Master Splinter'll work you twice as hard to make up for it."

Raph said nothing, just sat there brooding, and Don sighed and got up to make his report. Raphael knew there was no chance in hell that Splinter would go against his brother's recommendation, but he waited for the formal dismissal anyway, and then left the dojo with feet as leaden as his heart. Fuck fuck fuck. Now what the hell was he supposed to do?

* * *

  
A part of April was anguished by the distance that had developed between her and Casey. A part of her felt guilty, that it no longer hurt as much as it once had. But mostly, by this point April was just very, very weary of it all. She was tired of the clashes, the stewing silences, the highs and lows, the cycle of blow-outs and subsequent reconciliations that, great as they felt in the moment, never really fixed anything. It was tiring even just  _thinking_  about it, and so she was trying very hard this morning just to focus on her work.

She was going through financials in the "office" at the back of the store, which was actually little more than a computer desk pushed up against the wall in the storage area. The work was tedious but not difficult, entering figures into an accounting program. No, not difficult… but not easy either, seeing the cold hard numbers that confirmed it had been another disappointing month. Sales usually picked up in the spring, she knew, so it was just a matter of pushing through the next couple of months… she hoped.

Like she didn't have enough to stress over right now.

She and Casey had both been out of sorts last night after their return from the Lair. If Casey had noticed something was bothering her, he hadn't asked her what was going on… but then, she hadn't asked him, either. That was par for the course lately. She guessed maybe they were both weary. At least she had worked things out with Raphael before going to bed.

April had been afraid at first that the issues between her and Casey would make things awkward with Raph, though she'd decided early on she wouldn't talk about their problems around him. She didn't want to put him in that position. But rather than being awkward, hanging out with him had turned out to be… a relief. She didn't  _talk_  about her relationship troubles with Raphael… but she also didn't feel the need to hide them like she did when she was hanging out with Donatello. Lately she was always just slightly on guard with him, careful not to seem too upset or unhappy, anything that might cause him to see Casey as the "bad guy." He was just so protective of her. The problems they were having weren't just Casey's fault, but Don might not see it that way.

But Raph knew Casey, possibly even better than she herself did. She didn't feel the need to protect him from Raphael's scrutiny, or ever worry there would be judgment. Until last night, anyway… but apparently she'd just misread the situation, and that was… well. That was a relief. She was actually pretty embarrassed by the way she'd handled that. She had probably only interpreted his weird behavior in the garage as judgment because she was  _afraid_  it was. And she'd been a little bit distracted the rest of the night, thinking about the way he'd acted and what it could mean, waiting for him to return to the lair so she could see if he continued to ignore her.

She wanted to believe what he'd told her later on the phone, that he hadn't meant it as a slight, and his lack of hesitation about getting together Friday seemed to support that. Friday…

"I take it the numbers are looking better this month."

April started and blinked up at the familiar, angular face of an older woman standing in the doorway. "Hmm?"

"You were smiling. So I inferred the numbers look good," the woman said in her usual blunt manner, nodding at the computer screen.

_Was I smiling?_  "Oh. No… I mean, it wasn't that. I was just in my own head, I guess. Anyway," she said, giving herself a mental shake, "did you need something?" Doris wasn't one to interrupt her just to chat, so she knew there was probably something else.

The woman regarded her speculatively for a moment before answering. "Just wondered if you wanted me to rotate anything in the front window, since I pulled everything out to clean."

April had first hired Doris because she was flexible on the schedule, and willing to work cheap. As a retiree with solid savings and good benefits from her husband, she didn't really  _need_  to work, but she liked to keep busy, and April needed someone to watch the shop from time to time so she could get other things done. The woman's appearance and manner at first made her seem austere bordering on cold, but April was beginning to learn that underneath all of that she had a very warm and caring nature… not to mention a  _very_  good eye for product. Doris's taste was more eccentric than April's, but she had an uncanny ability to pick out pieces that could be purchased cheap yet flew off the shelves—almost like she was two trends ahead of everyone else. April knew she should be paying her a lot better… Doris knew it too. But she said the money wasn't that important to her.

"Um, sure," April answered. "Couldn't hurt to freshen it up. Have anything in mind?"

Doris's thin mouth twisted a little in thought. "What about that bench seat? The wrought iron with the ceramic inlays?"

"Well it's ready, but I'm not sure yet on the price. What do you think? Could we get five hundred for it?"

"Try a thousand."

"A  _thousand?_ You really think so?"

Doris smiled, an almost mischievous expression that made her eyes seem to twinkle behind her wire-framed glasses. "Price it at twelve hundred, and give it a week. If I'm wrong, you can always lower it."

April flashed her a smile back. "You're hunches have proven lucrative for me in the past—go ahead."

Doris gave a short nod. "And what about that one," she said, flicking her eyes to the other end of the storage area.

April followed her gaze, and silently studied the piece leaning against the wall, one of her more recent acquisitions. It was a large oval mirror, the frame of which was made up of mosaic-like sections of mother-of-pearl in graduations of blue and green, from deep teal to aqua, with overlaying sheens of pink when the light caught it. The effect was gorgeous, but the most striking thing was that the whole piece was made to look like a turtle. The head, at the top of the frame, was turned slightly so that one green eye was visible, as if the turtle was looking at you.

"I'm not sure yet about that one… I think I'm going to hang on to it for a bit," April answered finally, still studying the mirror.

"Okay. There are a couple of other things on the sales floor that should do. You can check it when you're finished here." Doris turned to go, but then looked back, waiting until April met her eyes. "It's good to see you smiling." Then she nodded once more and left, clearly not expecting a response. Which was a good thing, because April would have had no idea what to say.

Did she seem so obviously unhappy that a simple smile would make someone like Doris notice and comment on it? She knew the older woman meant well—but April was discomfited by the remark, and found it even more difficult to focus on her work after that as a familiar heaviness settled over her, a mantle of melancholy that was becoming decidedly more difficult to shrug off as things went on like this. She'd been telling herself that this was just a rough patch, that things would turn around again between her and Casey… but how long was she supposed to wait? And yet, how could she just give up without giving it every chance?

She had even wondered, in their low times, whether their relationship was just an effect of their mutual involvement with the turtles. A man and a woman, thrown together in a life-and-death struggle alongside five friends who were decidedly non-human… wasn't it easier to have a relationship with someone else connected with the turtles? After all, how many friendships had she retained with other humans once she's become involved with the Hamato family? Her own family—that was about it. Which didn't bode well for any romantic relationship she might want with someone else.

But for all that… she  _did_  care about Casey, deeply and genuinely. When things were good between them, they were really good—and certainly that was part of the difficulty. It made her sick at heart, and even mildly sick to her stomach, to think of splitting up, but it was slowly crushing her spirit carrying on like this. There was no good answer, no easy solution. There was only time.

April sighed heavily, and tapped her fingers against the keyboard, trying to refocus. It was going to be a loooong day.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	14. Vacillation

Afternoon found Raphael in the common area, resting on the reclining chair and watching People's Court through half-lidded eyes. The combination of more sleep and ibuprofen had done a lot for his neck, but he had interpreted his father's silent scrutiny during lunch to mean that any deviation from doctor's orders wouldn't go unnoticed, so rather than go to his room he'd opted to continue recuperating in plain sight. No way was he going to miss another day of training if he could help it.

So there he was, lying like a goddamn slug in front of the TV when Master Splinter and Leo walked past the common area on their way to the dojo. Evidently it was Leo's turn for afternoon session. His brother didn't look over at him, but Raph squirmed inwardly, knowing it was likely going to be a tough one. Splinter didn't tend to take it easy on them just for missing some sleep.

_Been there myself, plenty a' times. Ain't like Leo can't handle it… ain't like there's anything I could do about it anyway._  But the knot of guilt that twisted his gut wouldn't be reasoned away. He was actually grateful when Mike came out of his room a few minutes later and joined him in front of the TV. Distraction was welcome right now, and that just happened to be Michelangelo's middle name. Well, except when it was Bonehead. Or Spaz. Or Goddamn Nuisance.

"Heya Raphie-boy," the turtle in orange said brightly as he flopped on the couch. "How's the neck?"

"Better," he grumbled.

Mike huffed and shook his head. "No, no,  _no_. What's wrong with you? You say that, and you're gonna be right back in training tomorrow!"

"That's the idea."

Mike goggled at him. "Seriously? You'd pass on a golden opportunity like this?"

"Ain't like I got the day off to do whatever I want—all I'm allowed to do is fucking sit here."

"Yeah! You get to sit here and watch TV!" Mike said with enthusiasm, throwing his arm out to indicate People's Court. His eyes scanned quickly around the room, his brow furrowing a little in puzzlement. "And, you totally need to step it up on the snacks."

Raphael grunted noncommittally, and his brother gave him an incredulous look followed by an eye roll before snatching up the remote.

"Well if People's Court isn't doing it for ya let's at least see what else is on, because right now you are, like, master and commander of the remote. Might as well make the most of it." He switched to the guide channel.

" _You_  pick something," Raph said. "I don't really care." Actually, not that he'd admit it out loud, but it would be nice to have a little company. All day long everyone had had things to do—except him.

"I would. Totally," Mikey said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "But Donny and I are gonna hit the dojo in a few minutes, get some lifting in."

Well, that was no surprise. Mike and Don often paired up to workout in the afternoons, probably because neither was very highly motivated to do the additional training they were supposed to keep up with on their own. They'd both learned it was easier to stick to when they made plans to partner up.

"Aaaand we have a winner. Here ya go, bro—you're welcome," Mike said, and though Raph hadn't been paying attention as his brother scrolled through the list of programs, when the show he'd selected came on Raph jolted half-upright before realizing that was  _not_  a good movement for his neck.  _No no no, anything but this!_

He sucked in a breath as pain lanced through his neck and upper back. "Ah-OW,  _fuck_."

Michelangelo turned in reaction to the sound, his brow furrowed in mild confusion. He started to open his mouth to speak, but fortunately at that moment Donatello came on the scene.

"You ready?" Don asked, looking to Mikey expectantly.

Mike swung his gaze over to Don, glancing briefly back to Raph before answering, "Uh, yeah. Sure thing."

By then Raph had carefully lowered himself back to a reclined position, cursing himself inwardly for his reaction.

"Well anyway, here you go," Mike said wistfully, tossing the remote on Raph's lap as he stood to leave. "Enjoy!"

Raph waited, clenching his jaw as well as the arms of the chair until his brothers were gone, and then hastily switched the channel. COPS was the last thing he wanted to watch right now. He found a different show, something he'd never watched with April, and relaxed again.

A surprisingly short time later, Don and Mike re-emerged from the dojo. "That was quick," Raph commented as they walked past.

"Yeeeeah… we're gonna hit the tunnels and do some cardio instead," Don answered in an odd tone.

"You guys get chased out or something?" Raph asked, his curiosity piqued by Don's manner. He didn't know what Splinter and Leo were working on today, but it wasn't unheard of for Mike to be banished if he was goofing around too much when others needed to concentrate. When there was no immediate response, he glanced over just in time to catch a look between Don and Mike. Raph propped himself up a little, carefully this time, his brow furrowing as he shifted to see them better.

Mike, his eyes averted, just shook his head silently, and Don's face was sober as he said, "No, no… it's just, uh, not the best…  _atmosphere_  in there right now." Then Don turned to Mike. "I'm gonna take a quick bathroom break before we head out. Meet you at the door in a few?"

Mikey gave a nod, and then headed off toward the kitchen.

Perplexed, Raph carefully eased himself up and followed after Michelangelo. "What's goin' on?" he pressed. It wasn't like Michelangelo to be this close-mouthed.

Mike's blue eyes darted briefly toward the dojo as he walked, and then he gave another shake of his head. "Dude, it's  _intense_  in there," he answered in a low voice, but he didn't volunteer any more information.

Raph's frown deepened as he continued to follow Mikey. "What, did you get yelled at?"

Once in the kitchen, Mikey retrieved a glass and poured himself some water. "No. Not  _me_ , for a change," his brother answered, and took a sip of water.

Raph went around the table to face Michelangelo, leaning forward and bracing both arms on the table in a posture that was unconsciously confrontational. "Will you quite bein' so fucking  _cryptic_? What the hell happened in there that has you both actin' so weird?!"  _And so serious_ , he thought. Usually Mikey could find a way to joke about anything.

Mike finished his water, and set the glass by the sink. "If you really need to know, you'll have to go see for yourself," he answered. "I gotta run."

Raphael straightened a little, his eyes following Mikey as he left the kitchen before turning to toward the dojo. He hesitated for only a moment, his mouth firming resolutely before striding out of the kitchen. He knew it was just Leo and Splinter in there for Leo's individual session… what the hell could be so bad about that? It was curiosity, mainly, that drove him forward… but there was a trace of concern too, if Mike was too disturbed to crack a joke about it.

When he reached the doorway, he hesitated before going in. Although there was nothing prohibiting him from being in the dojo while another session was in progress, from his brothers' reactions, he figured it was probably best to try and be unobtrusive. He eased inside the door and halted, finally letting out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding at the sight that met his eyes. It was… well. It looked completely typical, actually. Leonardo and Master Splinter were circling one another on the mat some distance away, and Raph even felt a momentary surge of anger, thinking maybe his brothers had just been putting on an act to trick him. But as he watched, Master Splinter beckoned with his hand, and Leo attacked. Each had a  _hanbo_ , a short staff, but Leo was disarmed almost immediately and left to defend weaponless as their sensei countered.

He could hear Splinter's corrections, barked out in terse Japanese as they fought.  _Faster! You are moving too slow! You would be dead already._   _Attack, now!_  Leo made a move to retrieve his weapon from the floor, but was rapped on the hand with Master Splinter's lightening-quick hanbo.  _Tscha! The enemy does not leave time to pick up dropped weapons,_  the rat scolded in Japanese.

Raph knew how much those raps hurt; Leo's hand was probably temporarily useless for holding a weapon now anyway. And Master Splinter left no time to regroup. Instantly he was on Leo again, the hanbo whirling in his hands. Worse for Leo, this weapon, so closely resembling their sensei's walking stick, was as close as anything came to being his specialty. Leonardo swerved and ducked, rolled and flipped, blocking when necessary, watching for an opening, and Raphael looked on in almost horrified fascination. It was like a train wreck waiting to happen—he knew there was going to be a crash, and part of him wanted to look away, but he just couldn't.

Their moves were so quick they seemed effortless, on both counts, but Raph was sure if it were him fighting in place of his brother, it would have already been over. Master Splinter was pressing him as he rarely pressed any of them, and Leo was hanging in there… barely. But a closer study of Leonardo's face was more revealing than anything else. Usually the leader's face was calm, almost expressionless, when he was concentrating. In fact, the calmer his face looked, the harder he was probably concentrating. But right now even the façade of calm had fallen away, and his skin was glazed in a sheen of sweat visible across the dojo. There was no doubt how hard he was working, and yet there was a near-constant barrage of criticism.

_Keep your stance! To lose your footing is to lose. If you must retreat, go sideways, not back. You are thinking only in defense—think offense! Move!_

Through all of this, Leonardo didn't utter a word—probably he couldn't afford to, either in wind or concentration. The turtle in blue gave his all, but the downfall was inevitable. Obviously tired, he took a slight misstep, and that was it—Splinter had him on the ground with the length of the hanbo pressed to his neck in a double-pawed grip. Leonardo, with his teeth gritted and chest heaving, remained still. After a moment the rat stepped back.  _Up. Get water. Then we try again._

Suddenly coming to his senses, Raphael quickly stepped back through the door and pressed himself against the wall outside, his heart pounding. Jeezus. No wonder Mike and Don had left—it  _was_  painful to watch. Just how long were they gonna do this? Even fresh and well-rested, a high-intensity session like this would be killer, and with a stab of guilt that lanced through his chest, he knew Leo _wasn't_  well-rested. Because of him.

Goddammit.

* * *

  
By early afternoon April had caught up on bookkeeping, and she stretched and rubbed her eyes, which felt gluey from staring at small numbers on the computer screen. She made her way out to the front of the store to find Doris on the floor behind the sales desk, wiping the wood furniture carefully with a cleaning cloth. April's heart sank a little more. If Doris was cleaning the desk, it meant she'd already cleaned and dusted the sales floor, and  _still_  needed something else to do. April would bet the small bathroom was already sparkling, too. Another slow day.

"Oh, Doris, you know I don't expect you to do that…" Cleaning services hadn't exactly been included the job description, but April knew the older woman wasn't one to sit around flipping a magazine when the usual chores had been exhausted.

Doris glanced back at her briefly, but continued her methodical wiping. "It's no bother. I like to stay busy. Did you get everything done?"

"I did. Thanks."

Doris nodded and kept on cleaning. April knew that she would insist on finishing the desk before she quit. "Does that look okay?" the woman asked as she worked, nodding at the front window.

April turned, studying the arrangement critically before walking to the front door and slipping outside, arms crossed against the cold. She studied the display, trying to see it as a potential customer would see it. The merchandise looked good, she thought—high quality, interesting—but still it seemed like it was lacking something. She frowned, and then finally shook her head and headed back inside.

"I like what you did," April said immediately, "but I still think it needs… something. I just can't figure out what. She wrinkled her nose slightly, and then looked around the entire store. "Actually, I think maybe this entire place needs something."

Doris glanced up at her briefly, brows raised. "What do you have in mind?"

April sighed. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it. Anyway, I think I can take things from here, if you want to head out. Thanks for your help today."

Doris straightened. "You're welcome," she said. Then she studied April a moment before adding kindly, "Things should pick up soon—once the weather warms up there'll be more foot traffic."

"I hope so. And we'll have the cleanest store in New York by then," April replied, more bitterly than she'd intended.

After Doris left, April made a cup of tea and prepared to start in on her never-ending list of tasks. She couldn't afford to just sit around the shop and twiddle her thumbs, even when things were slow, so every moment during work hours was spent trying to further the business in some way or another. Today she sent emails to previous buyers and interested parties reminding them she had new inventory, did some minor updating to the website and social media page, and worked on formatting fliers she was intending to mail to nearby residences and businesses in the coming month. While she was doing that, her phone chimed indicating a text message had come in. It was from Casey.

_working late shift tonight_

Instantly her heart rate picked up. Tonight? No, that had to be a mistake… It was Friday night he was supposed to work late. She typed out a reply.

_I thought that was tmrw?_

His return message chimed moments later, and then another close behind it.

_switched with someone_

_Fri night free this way_

Great. Just great. All day long she'd been looking forward to Friday night with Raphael, amusing herself thinking of ideas for what they could do, and now… She chewed her lower lip and tapped a fingernail on the counter, trying to figure out if there was any possible way she could object to this… and rejected every idea she came up with.

She couldn't think of any way she could respond that wouldn't make it seem… weird that she was objecting. Her boyfriend had shifted his nights around so he could spend Friday night with her. If she protested, she  _knew_  he would take it personally, and they definitely didn't need any more bumps in the road right now. If she reminded him that she'd already made plans with Raph, it still wouldn't help. He would either shrug it off, saying Raph would understand, or he'd say Raph could come over and hang out with both of them. Which he could, of course… it's not that she would  _mind_ , but…

April sighed audibly, and decided not to even mention Raph. It wasn't worth it. She texted back.

_ok_

She'd just have to call Raphael and re-schedule—and then her heart leapt a little when she realized she could just invite him over tonight, instead. It was short notice, but it couldn't hurt to ask…

Raph wasn't keen on text messaging, so April called him instead. She knew afternoons were usually devoted to working out or conditioning, so she rather expected to get his voice mail, especially when the phone rang more than a few times. Finally he answered. "Yeah. Hey."

His voice sounded funny, sort of distant, or maybe just quiet, and she was confused for a moment.

"Raph?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Hey! For some reason I thought you'd be busy. I was expecting to leave a message."

"Nope. Not busy."

"Okay. Well," she said with a sigh, "I'm calling because it turns out Casey is working late  _tonight_  instead of tomorrow, and I thought… I mean I was wondering if maybe…" Suddenly she felt a little nervous about asking him—which was not like her, at all, and it definitely wasn't like her to get so tongue-tied. She guessed maybe she'd made her afternoon tea a little too strong—that could account for the somewhat jumbled feeling in her stomach, too. Caffeine jitters. "…Maybe you could come over tonight instead? I mean, if you want to." She paused there, consciously inhaling when she realized she was holding her breath waiting for his answer.

"Um," he said after a short silence, "thing is, I jammed up my neck pretty good earlier—"

"Oh. Okay. It's okay," she said quickly, not waiting for him to finish. "Of course, you probably just want to relax. It was just an idea."

"No, it ain't like that—"

"Raph, it's  _okay_ ," she insisted, swallowing back her disappointment. She knew it was short notice, and he'd probably been looking forward to just staying in tonight. "We can reschedule."

"Will ya just let me  _finish_ , fer chrissake?!" he exploded.

April was stunned into momentary silence, and Raphael plunged ahead without waiting for her to answer.

"I was gonna  _say_ , I was completely benched today cuz of my neck—Sensei's orders. No practice. Nothin'. I was basically put on fucking bed rest; been bored as hell. So I'm pretty sure goin' out would be out of the question."

Relief washed through her unexpectedly, making her slightly giddy. In fact, she barely suppressed a laugh that bubbled up. "O-oh!" she said, unbalanced by the sudden swing of emotions. "Wow. Must be pretty bad, then," she managed.

"Nah, it's already mostly better. Doctor Don was just worried I'd really fuck it up if I didn't sit out."

"Right, sure. Makes sense."

"I guess," he conceded, but he didn't sound very happy about it.

"Well," April continued once it became clear Raph had nothing else to say, "I guess I should get back to work. How about I call you in a couple days and we can figure something out?"

His response was merely a grunt of assent, but she knew him well enough by now to know it wasn't indicative of his enthusiasm. He was like one of those kids in high school who was just too  _cool_  to act excited about anything, but once he warmed up his enthusiasm became more apparent—infectious, even, when he felt comfortable enough to let the façade fall away altogether. She smiled to herself at the thought. "Bye Raphael," she said simply, and hung up, still smiling.

* * *

  
It should have been a good thing she'd cancelled. He'd been terrified as fuck to see her anyway, and the plan was to distance himself, wasn't it? Yeah. Great… except whenever he talked to her, he couldn't seem to keep that part of it in his head, couldn't seem to  _think_  clearly at all. If it was like that on the phone, how much worse would it be in person? So yeah—it was better this way. But that didn't stop disappointment, cold and penetrating, from flooding through him. He squeezed the phone in an almost crushing grip, trying to steady himself and wishing like hell he wasn't banned from doing anything more strenuous than taking a piss.

What a shitty fucking day.

The only one who might be having a shittier one was Leonardo, as evidenced by his demeanor when he finally exited the dojo some time later.

Raphael hurriedly slipped his phone into his belt pocket and tried to put April out of his mind for the time being. Nothing he could do about that right now, and nothing he could do about his neck. The only thing he  _could_  try to do something about was this thing with Leo, and while years ago it wouldn't have even registered on his personal Richter scale of conflicts, now things were different. At least, he admitted to himself, he  _wanted_ things to be different… which meant he'd have to man up and make the first move.

_Here goes nothin'._

Before he could talk himself out of it, Raph rose, careful to keep his neck as still as possible, and followed after his brother. "Hey, Leo, hang on a sec."

The turtle in blue glanced back and then slowed his strides, but he didn't stop altogether, and Raph thought he heard him give a sigh. "What is it, Raph?" he asked with a tone of poorly concealed impatience.

Raphael caught up to him, but Leo still didn't stop walking.

_He's not gonna make this easy on me_ , Raph thought resignedly. "Hey. Can I talk to you for a second?" he said. Damn this was awkward… but every time he'd been tempted to back out, he'd thought of his brother's face in the dojo, the grim set of his jaw and the beads of sweat on his brow, and resolved to just fucking do it in spite of the awkwardness. Leo deserved that much.

The leader slowed a little more and finally halted, though he still didn't turn around to look at Raph. "A second," he answered guardedly, his exhaustion evident even just standing there. The difference in posture was subtle, but it was there, his usual natural poise replaced by a slightly slumped, flat-footed stance, like merely keeping on his feet was an effort.

"Yeah. Okay. Um…" Raph scratched his neck uncomfortably. "Just wanted to say, yannow, I'm, uh… sorry," he muttered. "Um. About the way things ended up. Last night.

"Okay. Is that it?"

"Uh… yeah. That's about it," Raph answered, nonplussed.

"Great," Leonardo said, and he started moving away again, headed towards the stairs.

Raph's brow crinkled slightly. Okaaay, so he hadn't expected a medal or anything, but he got the distinct impression that his apology meant exactly jack shit to Leo. "Look," he called, "If you want me to go tell Master Splinter it was my fault you were tired today, I will." He'd thought about it, and that  _had_  to be the reason their sensei had been so hard on Leo during their session—to reinforce the necessity of being fresh for training. They'd all been there… he'd just taken it a bit further with Leo. Higher standard indeed.

"Not necessary," Leo said shortly.

Raph's eyes narrowed, and he moved forward again to follow behind his brother. "Well  _what_ , then?" he growled, his temper growing short in spite of his vow to keep it in check. "Whaddya want me to do?"

Finally Leonardo halted again just as he reached the bottom of the stairway and gave a great sigh, bowing his head as if asking for patience. "Look, I heard you. You're sorry. Fine. Glad you got that off your shell, if it makes you feel better. But I don't have time for a discussion right now. All I want you to  _do_  is let me go so I can get a shower in before I start prep."

Raph could feel the heat of anger mounting slowly in his chest as he listened to his brother talk… right up until the last word. It took a moment to register what that meant, and when it did the shock of it effectively doused the anger, replacing it with the feeling like a lead ball was lodged deep in the pit of his stomach. "Prep," he said distantly.  _Ahhhh fuck._  "For tonight's workout." It wasn't a question. He remembered now. So after sparring with him in the middle of the night, then regular training, then a rough session with Splinter, his brother still had a rooftop workout to get through.

"Bingo," Leo answered as he began climbing the stairs.

Raph kept after him up the stairs, trying not to jar his neck too much as he did so. "Maybe you should, uh, postpone it. You've had a long day already, I'm out until tomorrow, why not just do it Friday instead?"  _My other plans fell through anyway_ , he thought, but quickly smothered that line of thought, irritated with himself for even letting it trickle in.

"Can't," Leo said.

"Why the hell not?"

"Master Splinter knows it's on the schedule for tonight."

" _So?_ "

"So, he expects me to go ahead with it."

Raph shook his head in frustration, following as Leo veered off toward the bathroom at the top of the stairs. "That don't even make sense! Who cares if you postpone it one day? That way I wouldn't miss anything, and you could get some rest first. Master Splinter would understand. Hell, he'd probably give you a commendation for using your fucking  _head_  instead a' just going by some schedule."

Leo shook his head. "Not this time."

"But, but, that's fucked up! Look, I know you hate to admit weakness an' all, but we could just  _go_  to him and explain we were up sparring last night an' tonight ain't—"

Leo wheeled on him so sharply Raph almost crashed right into him. "You think this is some pride thing?!" he hissed. "You think I don't know we'd perform better if the team was complete and well-rested? I  _know_  that, Raph! And Master Splinter knows it, too—and he wants it done tonight."

Startled by the outburst, it took Raph a minute to find his voice, and by then his brother had started walking away again. This was his fault—he knew it was his fault. Time to man up. " _I'll_ explain it, then," he said calmly. "I'll go to Master Splinter. Ain't right for you to be punished."

"Punished?!" Leonardo said, wheeling on him again. "This isn't—!" Then he halted mid-sentence, took a deep breath, and visibly reined himself in, though his anger was still apparent. "Forget it," he said with a low intensity. "I don't have to explain this to you any more than you have to explain your shit to me, and furthermore, I don't have the energy. So how about this, Raph—you handle your problems, and I'll handle mine." His eyes, cold with hostility, held on Raph's a moment before he turned and strode away again.

Ooookay, still mad then. This time, Raph didn't attempt to follow. Jeezus. He hadn't seen Leo like this since… well, it had been a while. He was so damn  _contained_  these days, and not in a fake way, just repressing his shit and pretending he wasn't angry. It was like he'd found a way to move past it, somehow. But right now the strain and fatigue were clearly taking a toll. His brother was having a tough time holding things together, and it made Raph deeply uneasy. He shouldn't be doing a workout tonight… especially not without him there to watch his back.

He stood there, silently fuming, fists clenched at his side, and remembered another day Splinter's word had kept him home against his better judgment. That day, Leo  _had_  needed help, and it had never come.

_No. Fuck that. Not this time._

_-=-=-=-=-=-_


	15. Turmoil

April  _tried_  not to spend all of her free time working.

Not that she had a problem with hard work; she was well aware that start-up businesses required a lot of investment and sacrifice to succeed, but she also knew that not making time for herself was a sure recipe for burnout. She was going for a marathon rather than a sprint, which meant pacing herself and really priortizing her goals. Still, there were so many things to be done it was sometimes difficult to stop working. In addition to tasks directly related to running the store, she was trying to gain more of a knowledge base in business, art history, and interior design to name a few subjects, and she'd found some online tutorials that she was slowly but steadily trying to get through. Eventually, when she had the extra money, she hoped to take some actual business courses.

But this evening it wasn't any of those things on her mind. After closing up the store, she couldn't stop thinking about that feeling she'd gotten earlier when she had looked at the display window, the feeling that something was off. Something was missing—she could feel it. She couldn't let it go, and yet she couldn't even narrow down what the problem was. After dinner she went down and took another look at the store, and when that didn't bring any revelations she went back upstairs, got on her computer, and began browsing through pictures of other stores and galleries, hoping for a breakthrough or an inspiration.

All she got was more frustrated.

"This isn't working; I'm not getting anywhere," she said out loud to herself. She ran her hands through her hair, blew out a long breath, and closed her laptop. Time for a break.

Exercise usually made up some part of her daily routine. Some nights it was her  _only_  break from working. The specific activity she chose varied, but tonight, feeling frustrated and stressed, she unrolled a mat and began some yoga. She went with simple poses, ones that were particularly good for stress relief, and she was so practiced at them that she didn't have to think about the movements much anymore. Instead, April amused herself by picturing the literal meaning of the name of each pose as she went through them, a mental exercise that helped keep her mind focused on what she was doing instead of becoming distracted by other problems.

First, Salutation Seal. Eyes closed, hands at her heart, she pictured herself as a seal with its front flippers pressed together, basking in the sun. There were no worries here, under the watchful eyes of the beachmaster, and she could almost smell the salt and the sea. Next she got down and slid into Child's Pose, and she was a girl again, half-folded, young enough to be comforted by the press of her knees against her belly that brought her back to that time of closeness and security every human experienced before birth. Puppy Pose, and she was bright-eyed and ready for play, ready for the world. Cow Pose, placid and unassuming. Cat Pose, slow and sinuous…

Suddenly a loud knocking at the window snapped her abruptly out of her peaceful imaginings.

April sat up in surprise and immediately and went to the window, of course assuming it was one of the turtles but unable to tell for sure which one in the darkness beyond the windowpane. She raised the sill, and then practically  _jumped_  backward to keep from being bowled over when Raphael came storming in, all but crackling with hostile energy.

"Such fucking BULLSHIT," he spat, tromping into her kitchen without so much as a greeting. "Bull.  _Shit!_ Like he always knows what's best?! Like I don't got a goddamn brainof my  _own_?" He reached the refrigerator, wheeled, and stalked back the other way. "I'm supposed to just tuck tail an' follow orders? Fuck that! Goddammit!"

The muscles in his well-built arms and shoulders were all bunched, veins popping, and April could almost  _feel_  how badly he wanted to hit something, but he just fisted his hands and continued pacing as he ranted.

"So once again, I'm the fuck-up!  _I'm_  the asshole! An' all that stuff before didn't mean  _shit_. Well he can just shove it back up his goddamn tailpipe from now on; I ain't buyin' it. Fucking prick," he hissed venomously.

April had a shrewd guess as to the victim of his tirade, but she didn't ask any questions, just let him be. He was too worked up. Instead she calmly closed the window and retrieved a towel to wipe up the melting slush from the rooftop that he was tracking all over the floor. He didn't appear to notice what she was doing—actually, he didn't seem to notice that she was there at all.

"Jeezus, what the hell was I  _supposed_  to do? Just sit back an' wait for something bad to happen?" Then he went quiet for a moment, his pace slowing marginally. "Whatever. It don't even fucking matter. I'd do it again—I can take the heat." He shook his head a little and rolled his shoulders as he walked, visibly shrugging off some of the tension in his muscles. "I can take the heat," he repeated, almost to himself.

"What happened? What's going on?" April asked, her calm having shifted to concern with the mention of something bad happening. He was still pacing, but less frantically, and now that he wasn't so tensed up she detected an unnatural rigidity in his neck and shoulders, especially when he abruptly switched directions, that had to be due to the neck injury he'd mentioned. Somehow she doubted he had permission to be out right now.

"It's Leo," Raph answered in a tight voice. She could see he was still highly agitated, his fists clenching and unclenching subtly as he walked. "He shouldn't be doin' this. Not in the state he's in."

"What state?" she asked quickly, her heart beating a little harder.

"Looked like he could barely fucking stand! And he still thinks a rooftop workout is a good idea?"

"Is, is he sick or something?" She was trying not to let his concern rub off on her, trying to get what she could of the story before jumping to any conclusions, but if Raph was really worried about Leo…

"No, he's just a glutton for fucking punishment!" he said, throwing his hands up in the air as he stalked back and forth. "I tried to get him to postpone, but he wouldn't—some bullshit about how Splinter wouldn't approve."

April chewed her lip. "So you didn't talk to Master Splinter about… your concerns, before Leo left?"

He started to shake his head, but winced and answered verbally instead. "No. Fuck that. Wasn't gonna risk it. Not gonna be told to stay home—not this time."

_This time._  She knew, then, that he carried it with him still, much like she did. Probably as they all did. The mind-crippling horror. The guilt. Nothing could dull the memory of how she'd felt when Leonardo had come crashing through the window of her old apartment, pallid and prone and bleeding. While the rest of them had spent the morning bickering over breakfast, laughing at Mikey's antics, and watching TV, Leonardo had been fighting for his very life. And Raphael had been prevented by his father from going to look for him.

"So you followed him," she surmised.

Raph grunted a confirmation.

Now things were beginning to fall into place. "But he caught you?" she said, thinking of some of his comments immediately upon climbing through her window.

"Caught me, confronted me, told me off—wouldn't hear a damn thing I had to say. Said he'd deal with me tomorrow, you fucking believe that!? Like I'm just doin' it for kicks? Asshole. And the whole time Mike and Don just  _stand_  there, like it's got nothin' to do with them!"

Her brain screeched to a halt then, and played his words back like a recording in her mind. "Mike and Don are with him, then?" she asked somewhat breathlessly.

"Yeah."

She let out a breath slowly, relief washing through her. "Good. He'll be okay, then."

Raph faltered a little in his pacing, and glanced up at her in mild confusion. "What?"

"Well, you've been saying 'he'," she explained, "So I thought Leo was by himself. But if Don and Mikey are there, he can't get into too much trouble… can he?"

"He can if he falls off a building!" the turtle snapped.

She didn't think that was quite fair, because any of them could fall off a building for a hundred different reasons, but Raphael knew what his brothers faced and what they were capable of better than she did. If he was worried, that was good enough for her. "Okay…" she said, her mind surging forward once again. "Then what can I do? I could call him; do you want me to call him?" she offered, grasping at the first idea that came to her.

Raph snorted. "Call him," he said dubiously, "Call him and say what?"

"That, that I'm worried. That I need his help with something here. That I just learned a huge ice storm is upon us and he should take cover. Whatever might work!"

She looked up to find that Raphael had finally halted and was staring at her, just standing there staring with the oddest expression on his face.

"You would do that?" he asked slowly.

"If you're really that worried."

* * *

  
She said it like it was just that simple, but it wasn't. Not to him.

April was close enough to them to understand the role of Ninjutsu in their lives, that it wasn't just a thing they did but a thing they  _were_. It was a complicated mish-mosh of strict discipline and devoted family, with a line between that often wavered depending on the specific circumstance. But there was one thing that did not waver—matters relating to training were dealt with strictly between teacher and students. What April was offering, freely offering, wasn't just a phone call, it was interference in a training exercise—interference in an area of their lives that was strictly off limits to her. And she knew it. Her willingness to overstep those bounds based solely on his word shocked him, dousing his anger as effectively as a deluge of icy runoff through a sewer grate.

It also made him stop and look at her, actually  _see_  her, for the first time since his arrival.

_What the hell am I doing here?_

He couldn't remember deciding to come here. The only thing on his mind had been the sting and indignation of having been told off and dismissed by Leo—in Japanese no less—and this not two days after he'd begun thinking that maybe Leonardo was starting to regard him as something of an equal! Or at least  _more_  equal. So naturally he was hot when he arrived, his anger compounded by worry, running off his goddamn mouth, never thinking she might actually try to  _do_  anything as a result of his venting.

Now she stood in front of him, waiting, expectant, her eyes leaving no doubt as to either the sincerity of the offer, or her understanding of the gravity of it. Christ, she was something else. She didn't look physically powerful—in fact, the close-fitting tank top and athletic pants she wore only emphasized how slight she was. But there was strength there, in her posture, in her eyes… She was committed. And he knew he couldn't let her do what she was offering without very good reason.

So he began mentally re-examining everything that had happened that night, trying to weigh events with more reason and less passion. Was he so sure about this? He broke eye contact, bowing his head and pressing both hands to his temples, blocking out the world so he could think, knowing April was waiting for his answer.

"Fuck me," he said finally, his shoulders falling as he exhaled. Then he made his way over with slow footsteps to sit down heavily in a chair at the kitchen table. He massaged his forehead firmly with the pads of his fingers, as if the action could erase the last two hours.

"Raph?" April said behind him, sounding alarmed. "What is it? Should I—"

"No," he cut in, now staring down at the table with his hands cradling his head. "Goddammit!" His fist came down, pounding once on the table, and he gritted his teeth even though the tension in his jaw made his neck hurt again.

"… Are you sure?" she asked tentatively.

He tried to breathe deeply, to rein himself in before answering, cuz it was  _himself_  he was pissed at, not her. "It's fine. He'll be fine," he managed finally, but he still kept his head down. "You're right—Mike 'n Don are with him."  _Especially Donny_ , he thought. He'd forgotten—in the heat of the moment, still reacting to memories of a distant, storm-darkened day, not to mention the fresh sting of Leonardo's rebuke, he'd forgotten how Donatello operated. Just because his brother hadn't taken his side when Raph came storming onto the scene didn't mean he was oblivious to what was going on. In fact, if Raph knew Don, he was probably hyper-aware of the leader's condition, ready to intervene if he saw anything questionable. And now that he was a little more clear-headed, Raph had to admit to himself that Don  _would_  intervene, if he felt there was reason. Plus if the resident medic spoke up, Michelangelo would certainly back him. No one questioned Donatello's authority when it came to stuff like that.

Furthermore, he reminded himself that Leo had been on his own for two years. Raph didn't know how many close calls there had been while he was away for training, though something told him it was more than a few, and yet his brother had made it home alive, just as he himself had so many nights during that time.

Jeezus. Why hadn't he thought of this  _before_  he'd gone charging to the "rescue"?

"Goddammit," he repeated hoarsely. "I really fucked up."

Then a warm hand settled softly on his shoulder, making his breath catch… and it started to dawn on him that going out after his brother wasn'this biggest fuck-up of the night.

* * *

  
April felt Raphael tense under her hand, and then he jumped from his seat as if he had been prodded by a branding iron, practically knocking the chair over in his haste to move away.

"Sorry!" she said quickly, retracting her hand. "Your neck! I, I forgot!" She'd barely touched him, but it must've hurt for him to move like that.

Raphael didn't answer, just stood there a few feet away with his hands grasping the edge of the table as if using it for support, looking at her so strangely that her breath caught inexplicably. His eyes were wild, almost panicked, but there was something else there too, something she couldn't identify. Something that made her heart rate pick up again.

"I, um, I wasn't—I didn't mean to, to… hurt you," she stumbled, struggling to talk through a mouth gone suddenly dry.  _What the hell is wrong with me?_ Raphael continued to stare, and she became aware that she was clenching the towel she'd grabbed earlier to clean up the water he'd tracked in. On impulse, and because  _anything_  seemed better than just standing there, she crouched and started wiping the floor in rapid, serpentine strokes. All the while her mind was reeling, fighting to make some connection, yet she couldn't seem to reconcile her physical response with the situation she was in. Everything was… jumbled. Confused. Like trying to find a focal point while spinning around really fast.

She heard him curse under his breath, and then he was crouching across from her.

"Here. Lemme do that," he said, the words gruff yet gentle.

April let him take the towel, feeling strangely unsettled, and rose as he quickly wiped down the rest of the grayish water marring the tile. Then he dried the bottoms of his large, two-toed feet, and finally straightened, meeting her eyes for a moment before slowly stretching his arm to hand the soiled towel back to her. "Sorry," he said with a small, apologetic tilt of the head.

She regarded him silently, marveling at the transformation he had just undergone. This calm, soft-spoken turtle with his precise, controlled movements could not have been more different than the one who'd stepped through her window just a short time ago, so loud and volatile and erratic. His eyes reflected it, too—they seemed darker now, warmer. Almost a little… sad? But that couldn't be right. Still, there was something there that made her feel protective of him. In a short span of time he'd gone through such a range of emotions… and for the first time his so-called moodiness, as some had labeled it, seemed to her a misinterpretation. Not moody…  _emotional_. Which was, to her, an important distinction.

"At least it's not blood this time," April said with attempted lightness, referring to the last time he'd dripped on her kitchen floor.

He blinked and looked down, as if he'd forgotten where he was for a moment. "Yeah," he agreed finally. Then he looked up at her again, pulling in a deep breath. "Well. I should go."

April nodded slowly. "Right. Your neck." She knew he had to go; of course he did. She didn't want him to get into any more trouble than he was in already. But still something inside her went dark, like the slow veiling of the moon during a lunar eclipse. She swallowed. "Well, good luck then. With Leo."

He gave a stiff nod, and then winced. "Thanks. Um. See you around."

As he turned to leave, though, something almost desperate rose up in her, and she said spontaneously, "Unless you want to… stay for a bit?"

He halted, and then turned slowly to study her for a long moment, his expression indecipherable. Just when it seemed he was on the verge of answering, his eyes ticked over to the door of the apartment before flicking back to her. "Gotta go," he said decisively.

He was gone so quickly April had no time for a response. She could only stand there, feeling bewildered and looking blankly at the open window. Mere seconds later, she heard steps outside the door, and the snick of the deadbolt being disengaged.

Casey was home.

As he was opening the door and taking off his coat, April went to the window and closed it, her thoughts a jumble of disappointment, confusion, and even a trace of irrational annoyance. She didn't know for sure if Raph had left  _because_  of Casey's arrival or not, although the timing was uncanny, but she couldn't help feeling… cheated, somehow.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	16. Discourse and Doubt

Raphael slept only fitfully that night, snippets of his unplanned visit with April weaving in and out of his troubled sleep until he wasn't always sure whether he was awake or dreaming. The memories pursued him, haunted him—the look in her eyes when she'd faced him, both sympathetic and dauntless, the touch of her hand that, even light as it was, he somehow felt all the way through to his core, and her voice, hesitant but hopeful, asking him to stay. And so help him, he would have, too, and consequences be damned—if not for the timely arrival of Casey.

When his alarm went off in the morning, he felt like he had barely slept at all.

Raph sat up slowly and flexed his neck, realizing that in spite of his tossing and turning, it had done some healing overnight. Only a little stiffness remained, which hopefully meant he'd be cleared for training today. Even tired as he was, he was ready and eager for it. No fucking way could he take another day of just sitting around. Least it would keep him busy, and keep his mind from wandering to other things… or at least keep it from wandering as much.

During breakfast, no word was said of his little unauthorized field trip last night, but Raphael didn't kid himself that it meant Leonardo had forgotten. In fact, once he was cleared to resume training by Donatello, he began to suspect that Leo had actually ordered his brothers not to mention it. Don acted completely normal, but every time he looked at Mikey there was a silent taunt in the blue eyes that gleamed with mischief. It was never tough to read Mikey, and Raph knew that if he wasn't allowed to make any remarks, he was at least thinking them.

He didn't know why Leo may have ordered them to keep quiet, unless it was just to make training run more smoothly, but frankly Raph didn't give a shit whether they said anything or not. Thanks to April, he had already seen The Error of His Ways. He knew, though, that he'd still have to face the music with his older brother.

Sure enough, after they had been dismissed and were leaving the dojo, the leader came up alongside him, keeping pace for a few strides though his eyes remained straight ahead. "Come see me after lunch," he said, the softness of his voice in no way undermining the authority in the words. Then Leo veered off without waiting for a response, leaving Raph on course for the kitchen.

Raph sighed. Such a fucking waste of his time. Unfortunately, there wasn't much choice. He'd have to endure whatever lecture his brother had in store for him—the best he could hope for was that it would at least be short.

Huh. Fat chance. Leo loved to hear himself talk.

Raphael didn't linger over lunch, but ate quickly and headed upstairs to Leo's room, his steps heavy but resolute. Might as well just get it the hell over with. He didn't even bother showering first, which _technically_  was just following Leonardo's directions, but if his less than fresh odor in the close quarters of Leo's room helped speed this little powwow along, so much the better.

When he arrived, the door was slightly ajar. Raphael pulled in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and knocked.

"Come in," came Leo's voice, more of a command than a courtesy.

Raph obeyed, pushing the door open ahead of him. The room was, as always, neat bordering on austere, with minimal decoration and nothing on the floor save an intricately woven mat.

"Close the door and have a seat," Leonardo said from his desk, turning to look at Raph over his shoulder and indicating the bed with a tilt of his head.

So far so good—at least Leo didn't make him do this kneeling on the floor as Master Splinter would have. As Raph took a seat on the crisply made bed, Leo finished something on his laptop and closed it gently before swiveling the chair around to face him.

Raph hunched forward with his elbows resting on his kneepads, looking vaguely downward as he waited for the tirade to begin. He used to chafe under this yoke of subordination, particularly because it was Leonardo who outranked him. Truth be told, sometimes he  _still_  did. But today… it didn't seem important. He had other things to worry about.

"So. Last night," Leo began. "Did you really think you wouldn't be found out?"

Thankful his brother had decided to skip the small talk, Raph gave a shrug, but he still didn't look up. "No. Guess not."

Leo sighed audibly, a sound of frustration and weariness. "How are we supposed to build trust when you do things like this, Raphael? You were  _told_  to stay home due to an injury. Do you think Master Splinter makes those decisions lightly? You could have made things worse—and not just for yourself. What if we  _had_  run into trouble, and we had to spend extra energy saving your tail when your neck suddenly locked up? What if we hadn't realized you were out with us, and you got jumped and couldn't fight back well enough? Did you think about  _any_  of this before you disobeyed direct orders?"

He didn't really want to answer, but when it became obvious that Leonardo wasn't just pausing for a breath and actually expected some sort of response, Raph exhaled silently and said, "Guess not."

"Guess not," his brother echoed, the disgust evident in his tone. "Is that all you have to say?"

Raph shrugged again. "I'm sorry," he said meekly, still looking down at his knee pads. "Fucked up. Like to say it won't happen again but… seems to be what I'm good at."

After a pause, Leo said, "Do you mean that?"

Raphael darted a glance up. "What, that I'm good at fucking up?"

"No," Leo said, wincing a little at the swearing but letting it go without mention. He probably knew that enforcing language would be pushing things too far. "That you're sorry. Do you mean it, or are you just saying it because you think it's expected of you?"

Eyes down once more, Raph muttered, "Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." That was true, because even when he  _was_  sorry, he hated to say it. He definitely didn't go throwing it around casually.

"You were pretty hot when you left last night," his brother observed after a short silence. "I expected… well, not an apology, let's just say."

"I… had some time to think."

"Really. And what did you conclude?"

Fuck. His brother had to hear it, didn't he? Wasn't enough just to hear a goddamn apology? Raph sighed. "I, um, I just… realized that, um, Mike an' Don were there. With you. So me comin' out wasn't… necessary." Thanks to April, he'd realized these things. Hers had been the voice of reason, and yet she'd still been ready to drop everything and intervene if he had given the word. It made his stomach swoop just thinking about it.

Raphael glanced up again, briefly, but Leonardo was just staring at him unspeaking, and Raph didn't know what to do so he dropped his eyes again. Finally he heard his brother give another sigh.

"I know why you came after us," he said quietly.

Raph remained silent, though his heartbeat quickened a little, and after a moment Leonardo spoke again.

"I guess I can't blame you for worrying—I sure do enough of it. But you have to stop acting so  _rashly_ , Raphael." His voice was calmer now, more conversational than authoritative, though still colored by frustration. "You realized on your own that it wasn't necessary to follow us, but if you had just forced yourself to stop and calm down and think  _before_  you left, you could have avoided this whole mess."

Raph dipped his head in agreement, but he wasn't thinking of this part, here with Leo, as the mess. If he hadn't gone out, he wouldn't have been so charged up and ended up at April's… and then he wouldn't have this, this twisted, knotted feeling in his gut every time he thought of it.

There was silence then, for a longer stretch than Raph would have thought his brother capable of during this type of meeting. Maybe Leo was waiting for him to say something, but Raph kept his eyes down and remained quiet.

Then Leo said, "Still not sleeping so well?"

_Here we go again._  He knew his brother was fishing, trying to draw him into conversation, but he wasn't gonna take the bait. He didn't want to lie—Leo would see right through it anyway—but he also didn't want to delve back into that topic, so he said nothing.

Finally Leo exhaled forcefully. "Look, I didn't say anything to Master Splinter. About you following us last night," he said in a low voice. "He might know anyway; I don't know. But unless he asks me about it, I'm not going to mention it. I told Mike and Don not to mention it either."

"You don't gotta shield me," Raph grumbled, but it was a feeble protest. Of course it would be better for him if his father didn't know.

"Like I said, I'm not sure what he knows. He might just be waiting to see how I handle it. Or he might end up wanting to talk to you himself in any case. But if he doesn't know… well the truth is, I feel partially responsible for what happened."

At that, Raph finally looked up. Now  _this_  was different. He must have looked perplexed, because Leo elaborated without further prompting.

"You went against orders and came after us… but I think I made it worse when I wouldn't explain things to you when you caught me headed upstairs yesterday," Leo said slowly.

"Like you said, you don't gotta tell me everything," Raph responded, opening his hands briefly in emphasis.

"You're right. I shouldn't  _have_  to explain everything to you… especially not to get you to follow simple orders. But because I was tired and irritated, and yeah, a little pissed at you, I also forgot that sometimes giving a little information is easier and quicker than just stubbornly enforcing blind compliance. Instead of taking a moment to reassure you that everything was under control, I got angry and rebuffed you. And the result was you got worried and took an unnecessary risk. That part  _I_ have to own."

He was a surprised to hear this admission coming from his brother, and it reignited his curiosity. Leonardo sounded so  _sure_  that Raph's concern was needless. He looked up, studying his older brother's face intently. "Everything was under control, huh?"

"Yes," Leo answered without hesitation. "It was… pre-arranged, in a manner of speaking."

"So then… all that stuff, training and the dojo and the rooftop workout, it was planned that way?" Splinter being a taskmaster was nothing new, but subjecting Leo to such unnecessary physical strain seemed… well, crazy.

"Not… exactly," his brother answered. "It was more of a perfect storm, so to speak. You helped set the stage with that crazy middle of the night sparring session, and I think Sensei just… saw an opportunity and built on it. He knew about the scheduled rooftop workout, and just by chance it was also my turn for an afternoon session. So he ran with it."

"Ran with what, exactly?" Raph queried, his eyes narrowing.

"Well," Leo said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in imitation of Raph's own posture, "It was a test."

"A test? To, like, see how much torture you can endure and still make it home alive?" He shook his head. "That's… totally fucked up, Bro."

The turtle in blue canted his head a little, acknowledging at least part of what Raph said. "There's more to it than that, though. I mean, obviously he wanted me to make it home alive."

"Jeezus," Raph muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"But he  _was_  trying to push me to my limits. The test wasn't about my personal performance so much as my… leadership abilities. After all that, could I block out my exhaustion and suitably lead the team in a rooftop exercise? That's what it was about."

Raph shook his head a little. "I mean, I know Master Splinter pulls that stuff on us sometimes in training, trying to simulate complications an' all that, stuff we might encounter during a real fight, but don't you think he took things a bit too far? I saw some of it, in the dojo. Wasn't easy to watch, even for me."

"Actually, I think it was the bare minimum of what he thought would qualify. After all, I wasn't hurt or poisoned or anything. Just tired."

"Tired can still get you dead, though," Raph retorted swiftly.

Leonardo watched him a moment, and then nodded. "That's true. But Sensei is very good at gauging our limits. He wanted it to be difficult for me, but not  _too_  difficult. And even though I don't know when a test is coming, or exactly what it's going to involve, we do spend considerable amounts of time preparing for them. I'm telling you, it wasn't as risky as it seemed."

Raphael shook his head. "Dunno, still seems excessive to me."

Leo studied his eyes, and then looked away for a few second, clearing thinking about how to explain. Then he locked into Raph's eyes again and leaned forward a bit more.

"OK," Leo said, "I'm sure there was a time or two, as Nightwatcher, when you felt you'd nearly reached the end of your strength, like maybe you wouldn't make it home." His eyes scanned over Raph's. "Maybe more than a time or two," he said astutely.

Raph didn't answer, but mere mention of such things brought on not just the memories, but physical sensations that went with them. A flood of adrenaline, a surge in body heat that drew a prickle of perspiration across his brow, a restlessness that made him want to get up and just  _move_ , do anything but just fucking sit there. He remained seated, but clenched his fists slightly.

Leonardo watched him with eyes that missed nothing. "Think of that feeling—the heart-pounding fear, the bone-deep exhaustion, the desperation. Maybe there was pain from an injury, or many injuries. Maybe you were light-headed from blood loss. Think of what it takes to rise above all that and not give up, to fight or flee, whatever it takes, and get home—" Now his eyes bored into Raph's, dark with intensity, rendering him incapable of looking away. "—and now imagine it's not just yourself you're responsible for. Imagine everyone else is looking to  _you_  to get them to safety. So no matter what's going on physically, you have to be able to block that out and  _think_. No matter what."

Raph's head was spinning a little from Leo's all-too-vivid depiction and the associations that came with it, but though the illustration was powerful, right away he picked out the flaw in the point his brother was trying to make. "But it ain't like that," he countered. "It ain't, an' you know it. If we're with you, we're  _all_  gonna be working to take care of each other. I mean, that's survival. We're not gonna just keel over and give up if you, like, passed out or somethin'." That inflated sense of self-importance had been more obvious when Leo was eleven or twelve, but even now it sometimes rose to the surface.

Leonardo blinked, and then sat back a little. "Me?" He shook his head. "I was talking about Master Splinter."

It was Raph's turn to blink. "What?"

"In every fight that took a turn for the worse, who did we turn to? Assuming he was present, I mean. Who did we blindly follow, without a thought that he might not come through for us?"

Raph thought about that, searching his memory. "When we were younger, when we were kids, sure. We were inexperienced."

"Kids? Like fifteen? Sixteen? That wasn't so long ago, Raph. Master Spinter was still old. Think of how tired he must have been, compared to a bunch of teenagers. And even then he had arthritis."

Raph's eyes flicked back and forth introspectively. "But he never seemed—"

"Tired? Desperate? Too hurt to take charge? You're right. He never  _seemed_  those things," Leonardo said significantly.

Raphael looked up into his brother's serious, dark eyes behind that blue mask. "Are you guessing on this, or has he… talked about it? With you?" He knew his brother understood, or  _thought_  he understood, a lot of unspoken messages from their father, but to Raph reading between the lines wasn't the same as plain old English—or in Splinter's case, plain old Japanese.

"We've discussed it. In depth," was Leonardo's blunt reply. "He wanted me to understand, so I could be better prepared."

The end of that sentence, left unsaid, was one Raph could finish on his own. Prepared for when their father was no longer around to help them. "Hence the 'test,'" Raph said slowly. Then he frowned up at his brother. "And I'm guessing there will be others?"

"Undoubtedly," Leo said.

Raphael's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied his brother. The leader was inscrutable at the moment—maybe a little too inscrutable. And Raph knew in a flash of insight that there had been other tests before this. He wondered for a moment if the others had been as harsh as this one, but even as it crossed his mind he knew the answer. It wouldn't be a test if it was easy.

"What else," he growled. "What other tests have there been?"

"That's not important," Leo said dismissively.

His brother's entire demeanor was so calm, so accepting that is sorta pissed him off. "It's important to me!"

"Why? What difference would it make?"

"Because," Raph floundered, "Don't you think I—we—should know these things? If I  _knew_  what you were dealin' with, maybe I could fucking help!"

" _Think_ , Raphael," Leo answered testily. "Why should your help be any different just because I might be under extra strain? I still need you to be alert. I still need you to support the team. And," he said more emphatically, "I still need you to  _follow orders_  so I don't have to waste precious energy fighting you." Leonardo's body was very still, the words calm, but his eyes were hard and unwavering.

Raph returned his gaze, refusing to look down, but it was difficult because Leo's point had hit home. If there had been other tests he was unaware of, had he made things harder or easier for his brother? He knew it was a toss-up, fifty-fifty either way. The odds were not what he would have wished, knowing what he knew now.

Surprisingly, the leader refrained from saying anything more to really drive the nail in. Instead he sat back a little more and exhaled, his shoulders falling slightly as his tense posture relaxed. "Now," he said dispassionately. "Let's discuss your penalty."

Raph's brow ridges shot up. "My penalty?"

"What, did you think that just because I'm not telling Master Splinter you were getting off scot-free? You disobeyed a direct order."

_Fuck._ Leonardo had only recently been granted the authority to dole out punishments, and even so it was limited to misbehavior directly relating to rooftop workouts, which he was solely in charge of. But Raph knew he was within his rights here; this "penalty" would stand. "Fine," he said resignedly. "What is it?"

"You are banned from going topside or into the tunnels from now through the end of the weekend."

Raphael knew that was fair. Gentle, even. Master Splinter was probably going to be keeping him busy this weekend to make up for missing training yesterday, and it wasn't like he was thinking of running over to hang out with Casey… or April. And with this thought, everything that had been on his mind prior to entering Leo's room came rushing back.

"Any questions?" his brother asked.

Raph looked up. His brother looked mildly surprised that he hadn't gotten a response to his verdict. "No, I… I got it."

"Ok. Then you can go."

Raph rose slowly, and Leonardo stood up too, waiting for him to leave. He hadn't gone two steps when Leo spoke to him again.

"Raph?"

Raphael halted and looked up.

"Your neck  _is_  okay, right?"

He saw a flicker of concern in Leo's eyes, and he suspected his brother was picking up on the subtle change in his mood, even though he didn't know what it was from.

"Yeah. It's fine." He studied his brother a moment, thinking he probably  _did_  understand exactly why Raph went after him the other night. He was, as he said, a worrier himself. "It was a little stiff first thing this morning, but that's gone now."

"Good," Leo said with a nod.

Raph turned to go again, and then remembered something. He froze, and hesitated. He hated to do it, but… if it might stop the dreams… He turned back to face his brother. "Actually, um, I do have one question."

Leo waited attentively.

"If you, um, I mean if the offer still stands, could you, uh, show me those, um, techniques? The, uh… bridging techniques?" he said, reaching for the name Leo had used. His brother's concerned behavior just now made him think he might be willing, but under normal circumstances he still would've been too fucking proud and stubborn to ask.

These definitely weren't normal circumstances, though. In fact, they were the most  _ab_ normal circumstances he could think of, and he was getting desperate.

If Leo was surprised by the request, he didn't show it. "Right now?"

"No no, not… I mean, whenever you're free is fine. Doesn't have to be now."

"It's fine; I have a few minutes now."

"OK. Yeah. Um, thanks," Raph said gruffly.

"We'll sit on the floor for this. It shouldn't take too long."

* * *

  
"Somethin' wrong, Babe?"

"Hmm?" April gave herself a mental shake and glanced apologetically over at Casey, who was sitting next to her on the couch. "Oh, I… I'm sorry, I'm just… preoccupied, I guess." They were spending Friday night watching the next installment of Rambo. At least they were supposed to be watching it, but April's mind kept wandering.

He studied her a moment, and then shrugged. "If you're not into this right now, it's okay. We can watch it another night."

She  _wasn't_  into it—Raphael was right about Rambo II—but she felt guilty enough over that whole incident that she was determined to follow through on her promise. Besides, she doubted she was going to find it enthralling no matter when she watched it, so might as well get it over with. "No no, it's not that, I'm just… I was thinking about the store," she confessed with a sigh. "I've been having some issues lately, and I'm not sure how to resolve them."

"Like what kinda issues?" he asked, his brown eyes fixed on her in spite of the chatter of machine guns and explosions coming from the television.

April warmed a little at his attentiveness, and turned slightly to face him. "Well it's… you know, business has been slow, and that's always stressful, but it's more than that, too. It feels like, like I need to  _change_  something, but I'm not sure what." She shook her head. "I just don't know where to go from here. It's kind of driving me nuts."

"You think if you change something, business will pick up?"

"I don't know. I just don't know," she answered honestly, running a hand back through her hair. "All I know is if something doesn't change, I don't know how much longer I can go on like this."

He was still watching her intently, and in that moment April felt closer to him that she had in… well, in quite some time. He was listening to her, really listening, and it was moments like these that she remembered why she was with him. She even noticed with a flush of warmth how very attractive he looked tonight—relaxed, ruggedly handsome as always, with a dark growth of stubble over his strong jaw line and his usually unruly hair still pulled back in a man-bun from work. But then, physical attraction had never been an issue with them. They just… got lost, sometimes, in spite of how much they cared for each other. But maybe things would yet turn around. Maybe she could fix her relationship  _and_  her business, she thought with a surge of optimism. In fact, perhaps Casey could help give her some insight into what was lacking in the store. Couldn't hurt to ask…

But just as she was about to open her mouth, Casey spoke first.

"If it ain't working, just quit," he said bluntly.

April was speechless for a moment, frozen with shock. " _Quit?_ " she choked out finally.

He shrugged, and then reached over and gave her thigh a squeeze in a way that she supposed was meant to be reassuring. "If it's causing so much stress, just quit. Find somethin' else, something that makes you happy."

"You… you think I should close the store?" she asked numbly, and something inside of her quietly folded.

"I mean, I ain't trying to tell ya what to do, but this is New York. Tons of jobs out there. It don't have to be this hard."

She stared at him, but she didn't feel warm anymore. She didn't even feel angry—at least that would have given her the fire to fight for herself, for her business, to tell him she wasn't anywhere  _near_  ready to quit, not even close. Instead, she just felt… hollow. Defeated.

"No. No, I guess it doesn't," she said softly.

He squeezed her leg again. "Look, it's up to you. Whatever you decide, I'll be here."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and he patted her thigh once more and turned to the TV. April sat back into the couch, unable to stop the tears that pricked against the back of her eyes, blurring her vision. What had she expected, a solution? Sympathy?

_No_ , she answered herself,  _but a pep talk would have been nice_.

She hadn't even been considering closing the store at this stage. Although it was a reality she might have to face at some point in the future, it was only something she would have considered after she'd tried everything she could possibly think of to turn it around. But if Casey had been so quick to suggest it, perhaps she was just kidding herself. Maybe he had been looking for a gentle way to suggest this to her for a long time. If that was the way he felt, could she really be mad at him for simply being honest?

Maybe she wasn't cut out for this. Maybe it would just save her a lot of grief and expense in the long run if she just cut her losses.

She knew the healthiest thing to do would be to ask him what he really thought, tell him how it made her feel, but she was too afraid to hear the answer. So she remained silent and pretended to be absorbed in the movie.

She remained silent, and told herself that it didn't matter what anyone else thought… the trouble was, she wasn't even sure what  _she_  thought anymore.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	17. Epiphany

 "Here you go," April said, holding out a glass.

Raph accepted it dubiously, and scootched over a little to make room for her on the couch. She cozied up next to him, and he let his free arm fall loosely around her shoulders. "You sure there's no other way to do this?" he asked.

"Just give it a chance," April answered with a smile. Then she adjusted her position so she was leaning comfortably against him, and put her feet up on the coffee table.

Raphael grimaced. "You need ta get rid a' those things," he said, nodding at her socks.

"What, these?" she said, sounding aghast as she wiggled her toes. "They're my favorite! You gave them to me, remember?"

"Yeah. I remember. But when I gave them to you they were  _two_  pairs."

"Well one of each pair got huge holes in the heels, so I just matched these two up."

Raph eyed the mis-matched socks, one adorned with pictures of sushi, and the other decorated with pirate cats. He'd retrieved them both from one of those claw machines where you put in quarters and try to pick up the prize of your choice. Ninja skills definitely paid off there. But of the remaining two, one had threadbare heels, and one had a tiny hole starting at the toe seam. "Looks like they're about ready to join their mates as dust rags," he commented.

She sighed. "Maybe. But not quite yet."

It was silly, he knew, but her answer pleased him. He felt warm, and relaxed, and just… easy. Comfortable in his own skin. "You could've told me you wanted new ones. When I asked, you said you didn't want anything."

April shook her head. "I didn't. I don't." Then she tilted her a little to look at him. "I mean…  _this_  is all I want. To be here. With you."

She was unsmiling, undemanding—she didn't expect a response. But it was getting easier now to say things he was feeling… to her, at least. "Me too," he answered gruffly. And she smiled, soft and knowing, understanding him well enough to appreciate the true significance of two words so freely given.

He leaned in and they kissed lightly, and then April snuggled against him again and sighed softly, a sound of contentment that touched something deep inside of him. He let out a breath, too, and though it was silent, the quality of it was the same. He wouldn't trade this for anything.

"So? Are we ready to start?" she asked, nodding at the TV screen.

"Yup. Ready to go," he said.

"Okay. Well then there's just one thing left." April raised the champagne glass she held, and waited for him to raise his as well. "To five years," she said softly, and the way she looked at him made his chest tighten.

"To five years," he echoed, staring into her warm green eyes. They touched glasses and each took a drink.

"Well? Do you like it?" she asked.

"It's… different," he said, trying to decide whether or not he liked all the fizz.

She laughed. "You can get a beer if you want—the toast is over."

He took another sip and shrugged. There was sort of a heady feeling to drinking it, as if the bubbles were lifting the alcohol straight to his brain. "Ain't too bad—guess I can go along with it once a year with the annual rematch."

April smiled, took another sip herself, and then leaned forward to set her glass on the coffee table. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's do this."

Raph took two big gulps—really, what was the point of these skinny glasses? Then he set his glass down as well and picked up the TV remote. "Okay. Here we go. You're goin' down, O'Neil."

He pushed the button as April snuggled back up against him.

_Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you…_

Raphael came awake with a gasp in the dark, heart pounding and stomach roiling, and this time there was none of the confusion that often followed an abrupt awakening. This time, he knew it had been a dream—but that didn't make it any less disturbing. He lurched out of the hammock and stumbled out of his room, afraid he wouldn't make it to the bathroom before he got sick.

By the time he got there the nausea had subsided and he knew he wasn't going to puke, but he still felt weak, shaky. He steadied himself by holding on to the sides of the sink with both hands, trying to draw deep, steady breaths.  _What the fuck was that?_  He splashed his face with cold water from the tap. This wasn't supposed to happen—he had done the bridging techniques! He'd practiced them with Leo, and then he had done them on his own just before went to sleep. It was supposed to  _work_ , goddammit!

And with that thought anger began to rise in him, somehow both choking and invigorating, and it restored strength to his muscles, stilled his shaky limbs. He dried his face on a towel and left the bathroom, headed toward the only possible target of his temper.

Within moments he was outside Leo's bedroom. He flung the door open and went in without knocking. "It didn't. Fucking. WORK!" he bellowed hoarsely as he flipped on the light.

"Raph?!" Leo squinted against the brightness, but immediately got out of bed and closed the bedroom door. "What's going on?"

Leo had made some effort to keep his voice quiet, but the hint was lost on Raph. "The fucking techniques you taught me didn't do a goddamn thing, unless you count making things WORSE!"

"Keep your voice down!" his brother hissed. "Unless you want everyone else to come by to check on us."

_That_  he most definitely did not want, so he made an effort to calm himself, and began pacing around the small space of Leo's room. "I did everything you said, everything we practiced, so why the hell didn't it work?" He threw a glance at Leo, mask-less like himself and still standing near the door, but then wheeled around and strode toward the bed once again.

"What makes you say it didn't work?"

"Well I had this goddamn  _dream_  so that right there was a big fuckin' clue!" Raphael huffed, curling and uncurling his fingers as he tracked ceaselessly around the room. He looked up challengingly at his brother when no response was forthcoming.

Leo was standing silently by the door, not looking in the least cowed by the outburst but regarding him cautiously nonetheless. "I never said it would stop the dreams," he said coolly.

Raph stopped dead, and turned to him with narrowed eyes. "What?"

Leonardo shook his head. "I never said it would stop the dreams. The exercises help to complete the cycle of thought, unblock your mind. It's not intended to  _stop_  dreams, per se. It all depends on what part the dreams are playing in the problem you have."

Hands fisted, Raph advanced on his brother, only stopping when they were practically snout to snout. "What the  _fuck_!" he hissed. "You  _knew_  I was trying to get rid of the dreams! Why did you tell me to  _do_  this stuff if you knew it wouldn't WORK?!"

Now Leonardo's eyes were narrowed too, but he didn't move a muscle. "As a matter of fact I  _didn't_  know you were just trying to stop your dreams. You wouldn't tell me any specifics, remember? I only said that completing the cycle of thought might help you sleep better."

"Well that's a pretty fucking big miscalculation, Leo! Sleep better?! This was worse than any of 'em!" He didn't know  _why_  it felt so much worse, given the content, but it sure as hell did.

Leo crossed his arms over his plastron. "Well if you had just talked to me about your problem in the first place, maybe I would've been able to help more."

Raphael felt his rage boiling up, felt a gathering of energy like a coiled spring waiting to be released, and it felt so good he  _almost_  let it out—but then he saw that Leo was ready for him to do just that, was waiting for it. And then he wanted to prove his brother wrong even more than he wanted to knock that smug look off of his face. So instead he drew back slightly and said, "Go fuck yourself."

Then he moved swiftly towards the door, still struggling to contain his rage, but Leonardo had already sidestepped to block him. "Hang on, Raph."

"Outta my way," he growled warningly, his pulse thundering in his ears.

"Oh, so that's it, huh?" his brother said with a low intensity. "You come storming into  _my room_ , wake me up in the middle of the night  _again_ , accuse me of something that wasn't my fault, and then I say one thing you don't like and you get to do a storm-off? Grow! Up!"

As Leonardo stood there, glaring back at him, Raph knew he had a point… but he wasn't ready to admit it yet. So he just stood there glowering, making no move to leave and no move to stand down.

Leo watched him a moment, and then straightened very slightly, really just more of a rolling back of the shoulders, and gave a sigh. "Look, it's late. We both need to sleep. But let me just say one… no, two things before you go."

Raphael didn't say anything, but he relaxed his stance marginally and let his arms lower to his sides. Then he just waited. And glared.

Leo rolled his eyes slightly, but he must have decided that was the best he was going to get. "Okay, I know you might not want to hear this, but I'm not convinced the techniques didn't work."

Raph snorted a little at this, but Leo went on as if he hadn't heard.

"If this dream was different from the others in character or intensity, or whatever… I think you should consider the possibility that has something to do with what you've been blocking, and think about what it means."

"Like a message from my subconscious?" he scoffed. "You're really stretching this. You know what I think? I think this stuff is bullshit, like I said before."

Leonardo shrugged. "You have a right to your opinion, but just… give it some thought. Maybe you did complete the cycle of thought and this dream is showing you something important, or even a solution you haven't thought of yet. Merely  _acknowledging_  it might help you sleep better. Or, maybe not."

"Sure. Whatever," Raph said dismissively. "That it, then?"

"Just one more thing." His eyes scanned Raph's. "Just in case it slipped your mind, I wanted to remind you of our… discussion, yesterday. And your restrictions for the weekend."

And just like that, Raph wanted to hit him again _._ Fuming internally( _goddamn motherfucking condescending tight-ass know-it-all PRICK!_ ), he settled for a grumbled "Get a fucking life," and bumped his brother's shoulder on his way past and out the door.

"And a pleasant night to you, too, Raphael," Leo said dryly as he shut the door after him.

* * *

  
Raph had always had trouble coming down after any sort of conflict, whether it was an actual battle, an intense sparring match, or even, as was the case tonight, just a heated verbal exchange. Sometimes he wished he could just flop down on the couch afterward, like Mikey, and be instantly relaxed. Or like Don, who could shrug off his gear and just sit in his lab or in front of his computer. But Raph had to unwind gradually with gentle activity; he couldn't just sit still. Which sucked, because right now his choices were limited.

Walking the tunnels for a while would have been both harmless and ideal, and though he was still angry enough to make defying Leonardo tempting, he knew his brother would then feel he had no choice but to involve Master Splinter, who would definitely  _not_  go easy on him. And he didn't kid himself that Leo wouldn't find out—he had that Jedi mind stuff down just well enough to pick out a lie with uncanny accuracy.

The second option was the dojo, but he didn't feel like doing anything too intense. He could just walk around in circles there, he supposed. Boring as hell, though. With no better ideas he started that way, but then hesitated when he happened to glance over at the kitchen.

There  _was_  something else that might help take the edge off, and probably quicker at that.

Raphael paused, and then changed course and went over to the fridge, scanning the contents before withdrawing a Corona. They were permitted to keep alcohol in the lair, as long as they didn't overdo it. Beer wasn't particularly appealing on an empty stomach, especially at this time of night, so after flipping on the light above the stove just so he could see better, he rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out a bag of pretzels. He had just popped off the cap and taken his first pull when he heard the creak of a door opening upstairs, followed by the soft tread of footsteps in the hall.

Slow and plodding, the figure of a turtle came down the stairs and then turned toward the kitchen. A minute more and Michelangelo was standing before him, still bleary-eyed with sleep.

"Oh. Raph. It's you," Mike blinked sleepily, slowly taking in the scene before him. "Whatcha doing?"

Raph had been too restless to sit, so he was just standing next to the counter. "Just um. Couldn't sleep. Did I wake you?" It was a little surprising; Michelangelo was usually a very sound sleeper.

"Heard the fridge," Mike answered, jabbing a finger to point and shuffling over to it.

Raph's brow ridges shot right up. "You must have some sorta super power for detecting snacking, if the fridge opening downstairs can wake you up out of a dead sleep."

"Handy, right?" Mike answered, turning from the open fridge with his arms heaped with food. He turned to unload everything on the table, and sat down.

Raph watched in some amusement. "Hungry?" he remarked as his brother sifted through the food pile.

Mike shrugged. "I'm already up, might as well fix a snack."

"That's some snack," Raph said dubiously.

"Snack… sandwich…" Another shrug. Then he proceeded to pile miscellaneous food from the fridge between two pieces of bread.

Raphael watched in almost horrified fascination. Sure, his brother liked food. Like, a  _lot_. But he was usually more… at least  _slightly_  more… choosy. He might go to great lengths to make a plate of nachos or something, and although it often got creative, it usually actually tasted good. But as Raph watched his brother stack lunch meat, lettuce, pickles, black beans, and leftover sphaghetti between two pieces of bread, he decided he had to look away. He munched some more pretzels, and then took a long drink of his beer. Drinking it quick was probably a good idea, if his aim was to go back to sleep soon. That made him think of April, and how she'd won their bet by shotgunning hers. His stomach squirmed a little more, and it had nothing to do with Mikey's sandwich, which his brother was just about to bite into.

"Ugh, I can't watch," Raph said with a grimace.

"Wah bite?" his brother asked with his mouth full.

"Hard pass. Um. Is it any good?"

Mike swallowed. "Not my best, but not bad for… what time is it?"

"Little past two."

The younger turtle just nodded. Then something must have occurred to him, because Mike squinted up, his blue eyes moving to the beer. "You do this a lot?"

Raph looked down at it too, and then back at his brother. "Fridge hasn't been waking you up other nights, has it?"

"Good point," Mikey said, seemingly satisfied by that logic that Raph wasn't hiding a drinking problem.

"Naw, I was just… been having some trouble sleeping lately. Took Leo up on his offer to help, but it turned out to be fuckin' useless," he said, unable to stop himself from venting a little.

Mike laughed a little. "Shocker," he said with a spray of crumbs.

"I know, right? It's like meditation is the cure for everything, ya know?"

Mikey swallowed. "I wasn't talking about Leo," he said, looking amused. "I was laughing because, you know…  _you_."

Raph frowned. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you know, you're not exactly good with the whole taking advice thing," he said, gesturing with one hand. Then he took another huge bite of his rapidly disappearing sandwich.

"You sayin' it's  _my_  fault if the advice sucks?!"

Mike shook his head, and then tried to talk with his mouth full. "Buh you don even givvih chance." He swallowed. "S'why me'n Donny don't even bother anymore. Leo's the only one who still tries. I mean you pretty much immediately ridicule and dismiss whatever we suggest, and even if you do take the advice, it's such a half-assed effort it doesn't work, and then next thing we know you're in our face, cussing us out."

Raphael watched his brother with a frown as Mike took another bite. If it was Don or Leo saying this, he would probably be getting pissed off by now, but with Mike it was so… offhand, it was hard to get angry. "Yeah, cuz my life would be  _so much better_  if I just let you guys run it," he grumbled.

Michelangelo shrugged noncommittally, finished off the last bite, and brushed the crumbs from his hands. Then he burped loudly and patted his abdomen. "Well," he said as he stood up and began gathering up what remained of the sandwich fixings, "guess I'm going back to bed. 'Night Raph." He pushed everything back in the fridge, socked Raph's arm playfully as he went by, and headed back up the stairs.

And that was that. The only traces left of his brother's late-night feeding frenzy were the crumbs on the kitchen table. He hadn't even used a plate or any utensils. Which, come to think of it, he probably did on purpose so he didn't have to wash any dishes.

_Just that easy for him_ , Raph thought bitterly as he took another long drink of his beer. Apparently Mikey could remain half asleep even while assembling and eating a monstrous sandwich, and then climb into bed and go to sleep like it was nothing. Meanwhile here  _he_  was, alone again and more confused than ever.

He thought again of what Mikey had said.  _Leo's the only one who still tries… even if you do take the advice, it's such a half-assed effort it doesn't work._ Was that true? Had he been too quick to dismiss Leo's parting advice?

Mulling it over, he finished the beer, rinsed the bottle and put it in the sink. Even though his thoughts were still troubled, he no longer felt restless—probably more thanks to distraction in the form of Mikey than the liquor. After brushing his teeth, he made his way to his room and settled back into his hammock, arms behind his head. He didn't expect to sleep; his brain was wide awake. Still, at least he could lie back and relax his body. Any rest was better than no rest at all.

Normally in a situation like this he would put on headphones and listen to music, but since he wasn't sleepy anyway he decided to try,  _really_  try, to take Leonardo's advice, even if it seemed pointless. Why not? He couldn't take any more of those dreams, and if by some long shot it actually helped…

So he stared into the darkness of his bedroom, and let the memories of tonight's dream wash over him. Like all of his recent dreams involving April, it had been unusually vivid—the colors, the sensations, the feelings evoked… they had felt so  _real_. But what was it, exactly, that made this one feel so much worse? And by worse, he admitted to himself with a pang, he supposed what he actually meant was better. It had felt good, so goddamn good… Yet this dream had not even been as physical as the others. There had been, what? A quick kiss, barely a peck? The casual contact of their bodies as they sat on the couch? That was nothing, compared to some of the other dreams. In the one just prior to this, April had actually climbed onto his lap, leaving little doubt as to her intentions. Just the thought of it, of the smooth slide of her legs against his thighs, the silken robe and the way she had guided his hand under it, practically made him break out in a sweat, not to mention triggering a pooling of warmth in his groin and a corresponding throb in his tail.

He shifted uncomfortably in the hammock, but tried to stay focused. If he'd had to predict what would follow a dream like that, it would have been… Well. It would've been a little fuckin' racier than a COPS rematch and reflections on tattered socks. So, then… why had this dream tonight caused such a strong reaction? And not just emotional—he had felt physically sick, shaky… but  _why_? He let his mind play back over the dream, and when he did, there was one particular moment that stood out, made his stomach lurch.

_To five years._

He knew what that meant. Five years  _together_. Five years, and that look in her green eyes; the warmth, the acceptance, and something else… Raphael's eyes widened in the dark, and he half sat up, clutching the sides of the hammock as his heart took off racing.

Jeezus. Not something else. Something  _more._  She had looked at him with love in her eyes, and even though it was a dream, only a dream, he had recognized it, felt it, and… and it terrified him. The physical responses he had felt—shaking limbs, nausea, sudden energy surge, they were all consistent with the spike of adrenaline that accompanied a fear reaction. He just hadn't put it together, because it seemed so… out of context.

_To five years…_

He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, that it didn't change anything, but it did. It changed everything, in some way he didn't fully grasp yet.

He swung both legs over the edge of the hammock until he was sitting sideways in it, but he was still clutching folds of the fabric like it was going to buck him off any moment. He had to think about this. What the fuck was it Leo had said? That maybe this dream was showing him the very thing he'd been blocking? He shook his head, trying to deny it, trying to summon the skepticism he had felt earlier… but it was no good. Because he knew now. Somehow, he understood. On a deep level, so deep he felt the ache of it in his bones, he accepted a truth he had been trying to keep buried.

He didn't just want her… he wanted to be  _with_  her. Not just for a night, or a week, or a month, but as long as he could.

_To five years…_

He shook his head almost fiercely, like he could dislodge the phrase that kept replaying in his head. He hadn't let himself think about what it could be like, what he and April could have together if their relationship went further. It was absurd, unthinkable. And far "safer," more comfortable, not to acknowledge anything that spoke of a deeper attraction, a greater commitment. But this dream had broken through that wall, had shown him everything he'd been blocking, how very  _good_  it could be.

_But it can't; we can't_ , he told himself with another savage shake of the head. His stomach clenched up again, and he leaned forward and flexed all of the muscles in his arms, locking them rigid while he gripped the folds of the hammock. He was fighting it, fighting the truth, because goddammit no, he'd already decided this! He had thought this through; there was no other choice!

_But there is_ , came some inner voice.

No. He had to stick to the plan, back off little by little and let the relationship fade away. Then no one would ever know, not April or Casey or Donatello, and he could just, just, move on with his life. Slowly, maybe. Painfully. But it was best that way.

_Or, you could tell her._

No, goddammit! What the hell good would it do anyway? Not like she'd leave Casey and run off with him into the sunset…

_Then you're safe, right? You tell her why you have to stop seeing her, and she'll agree. She'll understand. Then it's over. No more deceit._

"No, just one huge helping of humiliation," he muttered out loud. But the humiliation wouldn't be the worst of it, he knew. Not even close. He squeezed his eyes shut.

_She deserves the truth._

He had no argument for that.

… _You have to tell her._

Raphael's shoulders slumped in defeat, and his hands and arms relaxed. He sighed, deeply and profoundly. Then he flopped back into the hammock, feeling exhausted, drained, yet somehow… relieved. He stared up into the darkness for a long time, mostly thinking about the time he'd spent with her, and how it was about to end, and how it half-killed him to even think about it.

When sleep finally took him, it was deep and dreamless.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	18. Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a loooong time since I've updated, but thank you to those still reading, and to those new to the story who've made it this far. Comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. This goes for all of my work.  
> ~KT

* * *

  
April was curled on the couch and just beginning to nod off over her book when the chime of a new text message came in. Drowsily she set the book down and grabbed her cell phone off the end table, a slow smile forming as she read the text.

_In the area. Can we come by?_

The message was from Donatello, but if he said "we," it must mean everyone was coming over. Suddenly wide awake, she quickly typed a response.

_Come on over!_

The answering text came back immediately.

_see you in 10_

"Donny just texted," she said to Casey, who was sitting on the other end of the couch. "They're in the area, so I invited them over."

His eyes flicked briefly to her before returning to the TV. "Sure you're not too tired?"

April looked sharply over at him, studying his profile for a moment. Was it just her imagination, or had there been a slight emphasis on the last word? His expression didn't give her any hints, but she rather suspected he was annoyed with her. Maybe she should have checked with him before she went ahead and invited the guys over, but it wasn't like they had been doing anything special. Unless… could Casey be irritated because she had been falling asleep hanging out with him, and now she was suddenly wide awake at the prospect of a visit from the turtles? But if it was quality time he wanted, why hadn't he suggested something else instead of putting on a TV show he knew she didn't care about?

Or maybe she was reading too much into it. She could ask, of course… but if she brought it up, she would run the risk starting another argument, and then she and Casey would be "in a fight" when the turtles came over. She didn't want to deal with that right now. In fact, what she wanted most was just to forget about all that for a little while and hang out with her friends. Maaaaaybe she'd just pretend she hadn't noticed anything…

"Oh, I'm fine. My new book is just starting out slow," she answered lightly.

Casey didn't reply, and he didn't look at her.

Okay… so probably  _not_  imagining things. And even though she was pretending not to notice, she felt it. The tension made the muscles in her jaws clench, and her stomach tighten. She knew she was probably overreacting to such a small thing, but that was the way things had been lately—she couldn't  _help_  overreacting precisely  _because_  there had been so many small conflicts. It was hard to relax when she was always anticipating the next argument.

April got up to go to the bathroom, and instead of returning to the living area afterward she busied herself in the kitchen, trying to put Casey out of her mind.  _Just let him go ahead and be pissy_ , she thought.  _I'm_ _going to have fun._

When a soft rap at the window signaled the turtles' arrival, she went eagerly to let them in. Michelangelo was the first one through, and she squeaked in surprise when he snatched her, ninja quick, and twirled her as though she weighed no more than a child before smacking her shamelessly (and wetly) on the cheek.

"Heya dudette!" he greeted winningly, somehow making the epithet seem hip even though no one talked like that anymore.

"Hi Mikey," she laughed, matching his wide grin, and then she turned to Donatello, who had entered just behind Michelangelo. "Hi Donny, I'm glad you texted me." She hugged him warmly and then kissed his cheek because, unlike someone  _else_  in his family, she knew he would never solicit such gestures.

Next came Leonardo, and she merely smiled before embracing him. "Hi April," he said quietly against her ear, and squeezed her ever so slightly before stepping back.

Even before the hug ended she was eagerly anticipating the last greeting, but when she turned to the window, there was no one else. Her brow furrowed as she scanned around at the brothers, her heart sinking. "Where's Raphael?"

"Make-up session," Mikey answered, already rummaging in the kitchen for food. "Leo beat him up again, so he missed training Thursday."

Her eyebrows shot up as she turned questioningly to Leo, catching instead the leader's glare at Michelangelo. "I didn't—!" Then he stopped himself, and instead addressed April. "He's fine. It's fine. We were just sparring, and he jarred his neck a little—"

"Yeah, like on your FIST, dude," Mikey cut in.

Leo glared at him again but continued on with his explanation. "—and Sensei benched him for the day. More or less precautionary. He was back in practice yesterday and today."

Of course she already knew he'd hurt his neck, but Raphael had never mentioned the injury having been inflicted by Leo. "Ah. Well I'm glad he's okay," she said simply, though she was more disappointed than she let on. Until now, April hadn't realized how much she had been looking forward to seeing him. She tried to shake it off, because of  _course_  she was still happy to see the others… Of course she was. It was just that when she had received Don's text message, it hadn't even crossed her mind that Raph might not be with them…

Mikey zoomed past her with a bag of pretzels and vaulted over the back of the couch to land next to Casey. "Hiya Case! Whatcha watching?"

"Nothin' special," Casey answered, carefully neutral. "Why?"

"Cause I'm feeling the need… the need for SPEED!"

Already smiling, April rolled her eyes. She knew where this was going.

"MARIO KART!" Leo called, and he rushed to the couch and did a back handspring over it to land next to Mikey.

Casey was grinning. If he was irritated with her, at least it didn't seem to be carrying over to their friends. Don's eyes lit up too, but he glanced over at April instead of blowing past her like his brothers. "You playing, April?"

She looked to the family room, where Casey was already crouched in front of the TV, pulling out the game system from the cabinet underneath and passing out controllers. There were four—one of the reasons this was such a popular game when they were all together. That, and Leo was as enthusiastic about it as the rest of them, which couldn't be said of very many video games. But four controllers still left them one short for their number tonight. If she played, one of them would have to sit out and wait for another race, and she looked back at Don, knowing he was ever mindful of her. If she said she wanted to play, Donatello would let her play first, even as his brothers and Casey were already fighting over which characters they wanted.

"No, I… I'll probably join in a little later. I wanted to… finish something up first." But after the words were out, she had a different thought. "Actually, if you're willing to opt out of Mario Kart mania for a few minutes, I could use your help with something."

"Sure," Don said without hesitation. "What do you need?"

Before she could answer, Michelangelo called out impatiently, "Hey, you guys coming?"

"No, you go ahead," April answered. "We'll jump in later." Then she smiled at Donatello. "I'll show you. Follow me."

As they made their way down to the store, April explained. "So here's the thing. Something about the store has been bothering me lately."

"Bothering you?" Don asked, glancing sideways at her as they walked. "What is it?"

"That's just it—I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out, but I'm not getting anywhere. Something just feels… off. So I thought it might help just to, you know, bring on an extra pair of eyes. Maybe you'll notice something I don't." They went down the stairs, through the final doors, and finally walked out on to the sales floor. She flipped on the lights.

The place was rather full of inventory compared to an art gallery, which tended to be sparse, and rather empty if you compared it to an antique shop, which often had items piled and stacked so close together it took some time to look through. Her store was more or less a blend of both, so there was a moderate but not overwhelming amount of merchandise. The space was arranged into loose rows, with the higher shelves against the walls, and tables and furniture formed into lines with more items displayed on top of them. The aisles were wide enough for two more people to comfortably go by, which made it easier for customers to browse on both sides of the row.

The room looked spacious, open, and during the day it had plenty of natural light. Everything was tastefully and thoughtfully arranged, and thanks to Doris, clean as a whistle. All good things. So why was she so dissatisfied?

Don had of course been down here many times, but she gave him a few moments to take it all in anyway. Finally he looked at her, his gray-brown eyes attentive, but not alight with any spark of inspiration. After working alongside Donny on so many projects, she knew when he had an idea.

"So," she prompted, still hopeful that he would have some insight, "What do you think? Does anything… jump out at you? Anything I could improve?"

He swung his gaze over the room again, his eyes moving slowly now, studying things more closely. At last he shrugged. "There are some cobwebs, up there, high in the corner," he pointed, "and something, maybe water damage, there. That air return grate is lopsided, probably a loose screw. Other than that, just the usual gashes and marks on the wall." He shrugged again. "All easy fixes, fortunately. I could clean it up for you sometime if you want."

April could have laughed at herself then, but she was afraid he would think she was laughing at  _him_  so she kept a straight face. Of  _course_  Donatello had found every defect in the room within minutes—he was extremely detail-oriented. She was asking him for feedback on the ambience, and he'd given her cobwebs and a crooked air vent!

"Thanks," she said with a little cough to hide her impulse to smile. "I may take you up on that. Anything… else?" she added hopefully. "I mean, let's say you were a customer, just walking in. What would you think? Assuming all those things you mentioned were fixed, of course," she said quickly. "Would you want to stay? Look around?"

"Definitely. I mean, if you got rid of all this stuff and sold Utrom tech. Then you couldn't chase me out."

She shot him a dirty look. "Not helpful."

Donatello grinned and bumped her playfully with his shoulder. Then he studied her a moment and said, "Seriously, though? I think the place looks great. Clean, well ordered, good presentation, plenty of light… I don't see any major problems. You're probably just overthinking things."

"Yeah… maybe," she answered, looking around her. But the doubt that had taken up residence in her heart would not vacate so easily. She could feel Donny watching her, and after a few moments her eyes stopped wandering and returned to his.

Don studied her face, his eyes concerned and probing. "April… what's this really about?" he asked gently.

And that was it, that was all it took. She had felt fine coming down here, not upset or emotional at all. Yet one word of concern from a friend brought all of that repressed emotion, the worry, the stress, surging to the surface. She shrugged a little, but it was mainly to feign a lightness she didn't feel. In truth, she felt like she might start crying. She swallowed, trying to ease the sudden pressure in her throat so she could speak, but it didn't help.

Donatello's large hand came up to her arm, giving the barest squeeze as he peered more closely at her face. "Hey, it's okay, you can talk to me."

She nodded, and then made an attempt. "I know," she croaked. "I just, I'm not…" She swallowed once more against the tightness in her throat. She couldn't tell Don about what Casey had said; she  _knew_  it would only make him angry. So she kept it simple. "Business isn't so good," she managed.

Donatello continued to watch her, as if guessing there was more to it. "Well, you're still a startup," he said slowly. "Most new businesses struggle at first."

"I know, but I… am I… do you think I'm wasting my time?" she blurted out. She quickly looked down, afraid to see pity in his eyes, afraid to see the truth he would never speak written plainly on his face.

"Wasting your—? No. No. April, look at what you've done!"

Even though she wasn't looking at him, she saw him gesture peripherally, indicating the whole store with a sweep of his arm.

"This place, it's great! Yes, it's a lot of work. Yes, you'll have to struggle. But it's worth it to you, isn't it?"

"Yes," she croaked once more. And that was the truth. Even with all the stress, all the sacrifice, all the hard work, the only thing she would regret would be quitting before she'd done everything she could. "But am I… what if I want this so badly, I'm blinded by it? What if I can't look at things objectively? Is this just a slump, or is it a slow slide into failure? I just feel so… unsure, right now." She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling unsteady and alone, like she was about to be swept away in a dizzying tidal wave of doubt.

She felt the tears gathering, and though the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of Donatello, she couldn't seem to swallow past the painful lump in her throat. One tear slipped free, and then another. April knew he was watching her, but she didn't look up. "I'm, I'm sorry," she croaked. "I didn't—this wasn't—"

But before she could get any farther, she heard Don sigh, and then took her wrist and pulled her in against his chest, holding her gently. The scutes of his plastron were cool and unyielding, but far from being unpleasant, it made her feel all the more protected. She relaxed against him, but she didn't sob or weep, didn't completely break down, only shuddered silently as the tears spilled free and tracked down her cheeks. Don continued to hold her, his hand touching lightly at her back, and she felt  _awful_  doing this to him, but at the same time if felt so good to just be hugged, to be comforted.

After a little while she sniffed and eased back, wiping her face. Don released her, but his hands remained on her upper arms while he peered into her eyes. "April, listen. What you're in right now," he said with quiet conviction, "whether you call it a slump, or growing pains, or a seasonal lull, is  _totally_.  _Normal_. It's made you doubt yourself, which is understandable, but you can't let it defeat you. This place is amazing. Just believe in yourself. Okay? You've got this."

April nodded and sniffed again, even giving a wobbly smile. "Thanks, Donny." Surprisingly, she already felt a little better. She had evidently been holding back a lot of emotion about the store, and having some release, along with the comfort and confidence of a friend, was exactly what she'd needed.

The turtle dropped his hands from her arm, but he watched her closely still. "I mean, it's good that you're always trying to think of ways to improve things," he continued. "It means you're flexible, open to new ideas." He shrugged a little. "Some people can't do that; they become fixated on one idea and just ride it into the ground, whether it's working or not. So it's good to step back and take a critical look at what you're doing, but you also have to remember to take things nice and slow. I don't think there's a quick-fix, a strategy that will change things overnight. Give it time. You probably just started to panic a little because it's the slow season, like you said."

April nodded. That could be true… She had hoped for a while that the card with the Nightwatcher sketch on it that Raph had given her for Christmas would result in something material, something to help bolster the business in the short-term and get her through the rest of the winter, but it was proving more complicated than that. April had inquired at the gallery, but refused to leave the sketch with them as they suggested, and was left with a vague assurance that they would pass her own business card on to the artist. That had been several weeks ago, and she was still considering what her next move should be. She had debated asking Don for his input on that too, but he hadn't been too keen on the gift at the time, so she had decided to keep it to herself for now.

"I was doing some bookkeeping the other day, and seeing the numbers wasn't exactly a confidence builder," April admitted.

"I get it," Don responded. "If you think it would help, we can totally sit down together and do some number crunching, brainstorm some different ways to bring in income, or cut expenses a little."

"That… might be good, actually," she said, feeling a further relief of tension even considering that. "Thanks, Donny. I don't know if it'll make any difference, but it would be nice to have someone to bump heads with, if nothing else. I think that's the worst part, feeling so… alone." That was the part she hadn't fully anticipated when she first decided to go into business for herself—the isolation. The fact that she didn't have a business partner to share the workload and expenses hadn't bothered her at all. It wasn't until she got farther along that she realized it wasn't just about sharing the work, it was about sharing the stress, the  _emotional_  workload.

She had tried to get Casey involved in the business too, thinking—hoping?—that he might find purpose in the work. But it hadn't worked out that way at all. She didn't harbor any anger or resentment about that—it was clearly not a good fit, and not a reasonable expectation for him to be emotionally invested in something just because  _she_  was. Working together hadn't been good for their relationship, either… they went about things very differently. Not that having separate jobs had magically fixed things, though, she thought sardonically. But their professional divergence had left her bearing the full burden once again, and the weight of it was taking its toll.

"You're not alone," Don said earnestly. "I'll help you however I can, starting with checking my schedule so I can come over and do these minor repairs," he said, indicating the store with a wave of his hand.

"That would be… amazing. Thank you, Donny. For… just, everything," she said sincerely.

"It's nothing," he assured her. " _You've_  done all the hard work, but I'm happy to help any way I can."

April was in much better spirits when they headed back upstairs a short while later, and she thought again how lucky so was to have Donatello for a friend. He had given her the pep talk that she wished she would have gotten from Casey, and she knew he meant it… which was maybe why she felt somewhat guilty for still having doubts in spite of it all. Don's advice was to believe in herself, but then… didn't that mean she should take it seriously when her gut was telling her something was wrong? And she didn't really think it was just that her confidence had been shaken when Casey had suggested she close the store—she had already been thinking something needed to change even before that. So where did that leave her?

_Leo might have some insight, maybe I should ask him to take a look too. Or even Mikey. What could it hurt?_

But she knew who she really wanted. Someone who would give it to her straight, who wouldn't tiptoe around her feelings. Someone with brutal, unflinching honesty.

She needed Raphael.

* * *

  
Both April and Donatello jumped right into the rotation for Mario Kart when they got back upstairs. Don kept glancing at her as they played, probably checking to see if she seemed okay, but he didn't say anything, for which she was grateful. He had offered again on the way upstairs to come back and help her in the store, and she had assured him she would take him up on that

She  _did_  feel better after talking with him… and she was happy to see the turtles, but she just couldn't seem to get into the game. Her thoughts kept slipping back to the store, and what Don had said, and what Raphael might say when she asked for his help. She wasn't putting much effort into winning races anyway, and after a few cycles April gave over her controller to Mikey, who had been sitting out waiting for a turn. She sighed. "Well, it's been fun, guys, but I'm turning in."

"What, already?" Michelangelo said, selecting his character for the next race even as he spoke.

"It's late!" April defended as she stood up. " _Some_  of us have to work tomorrow." She knew the guys didn't have training on Sunday mornings, and they typically made the most of it. Casey was off too. Following the protocol of so many retail businesses, she kept the store open both Saturdays and Sundays to maximize access for weekend shoppers, closing on Monday instead—although it wasn't like she took the day to relax.

Leo's eyes left the screen briefly to glance at her. "We should probably get going, then," he said with obvious reluctance.

"You're only saying that because you're sick of LOSING!" Mike said.

"No, it's because she'll never be able to sleep with YOU and your big mouth here!" Leo shot back.

"No, no, please, stay as long as you want! I don't want to spoil the fun," April said with a smile.

"Yeah, it's fine," Casey chimed in. "Store doesn't open until eleven on Sundays anyway."

April planned to be working much earlier than eleven, even if the store wasn't officially open, but she didn't correct him.

"Are you sure?" asked Don, catching her eye. He alone had yet to pick his character, no doubt waiting to make sure she was really okay with it before they started another race, and April thought again how lucky she was to have him as a friend.

"Totally sure." She smiled again, just for him this time. "And thanks again for your help."

"Any time," he said, his eyes echoing his sincerity.

"Will you  _pick_ already, Donny?" Mike cut in.

"Okay, okay!"

"Well good night, everyone," she said.

"Night April!"

She gave Casey's shoulder a touch as she went by, and though he didn't look up, he muttered a goodnight as he did his best to dodge a turtle shell launched at him. It was meant as a peace offering, an unspoken message that everything was okay—from her end, anyway. She had been a little surprised to realize that that was true. Any lingering coldness she had felt towards him since his comment about the store, any tension from before the turtles came over, had dissipated. She credited a lot of that to her talk with Donatello, and yet it wasn't Don she was thinking of as she brushed her teeth and changed into pajamas.

The truth was, ever since it had occurred to her that maybe Raphael was the one to help her, she could hardly wait to talk to him. And then she had realized that she didn't  _have_  to wait. She assumed he was home right now, and most likely not busy, so why not try and call him? Plus with Casey otherwise engaged, she was ensured a little privacy.

She turned out the light and snuggled in under the covers before plucking her phone off the nightstand, smiling as she went to her favorites list and hit the call button.

Ringing…

Ringing…

After a few more rings her smile began to fade, but she hung on, still optimistic.

Finally she heard Raphael's brusque voice on the line, but it wasn't what she had hoped.

_Hey. Leave a message._

For security reasons, none of the turtles left their names on their voice mail greeting, nor did they leave the generic pre-recorded message—that too was for safety. There was a chance, however small, that one of them could mis-dial and leave a voice message with suspicious information on it (like mention of mutant turtles, or subterranean habitations) without realizing it was someone else's number. Donatello had insisted that they record personalized greetings so their voices could be recognized by family and friends without using their names.

Don's and Leo's greetings were both standard and polite, but Mikey changed his from time to time, often poking fun at certain family members in a veiled way. Predictably, Raphael's was neither cute nor polite, just short and to the point.

April hadn't anticipated having to leave a message. Surely he wasn't training  _this_  late… maybe he was asleep already. But it was either leave a message or just hang up, and maybe there was still a chance he'd call her back. So she simply said, "Hey, it's me. I'll be up for a little bit yet, so give me a call back if you get this. Um. Bye."

She hung up, and killed some time checking email on her phone, then the weather, then browsing her social media for a bit.

Seven minutes.

She looked at the news and read an article about CRISPR gene editing.

Twelve minutes.

She sighed, fidgeted a little under the covers, checked her email again, then looked at the time once more, her heart sinking.  _He's not going to call._

* * *

  
Raphael sighed heavily and shifted on the beanbag chair, attempting once again to lose himself in the music blasting through his headphones. He closed his eyes, focusing on the vibration of the rolling bass that seemed to gallop straight through his chest, the screaming vocals echoing a savageness he felt within but couldn't express. He shifted again, wishing that turning the volume up would help drown out his thoughts, but he knew it was no good. Tonight even his brand of music couldn't compete with the real-life shit he was dealing with.

It had been a long afternoon of one-on-one with Master Splinter, a double session to make up for what he'd missed, but it had actually gone okay. At least he'd been able to concentrate for a change. The distraction and the physical exertion were welcome, and the nervous energy that had been building for the last couple of weeks, a byproduct of heightened anxiety over the situation with April, had all but gone away, replaced by a resigned sort of calm that at least allowed him to function more normally,  _think_  more normally, even if it left him with a pressure in his chest that made it difficult to draw a full, deep breath.

Raph unconsciously brought his hand up to rest at the juncture of his pectoral plates as he inhaled deeply, evaluating the discomfort. Was it just anxiety over what was to come? Would he feel better once he'd just told her? Or was this just a pale shadow of the pain he'd be in once she rejected him?

Leonardo had been right. Not that he'd admitted as much to his brother, even when the guy kept shooting looks at him during morning training. But that dream—that absurd, horrifying,  _amazing_  fucking dream—had been the key, had opened the doorway to a possibility he hadn't been willing to acknowledge before. Not to keep playing the game with the "rules" he'd made up, but to overturn the board and let the pieces fall where they may.

He was going to tell her, actually tell her how he felt. How the  _fuck_ was he even gonna do that? What could he  _say_? The very thought of it made him break out in a cold sweat.

_Don't. Don't think about that yet. One step at a time…_

He didn't  _want_  to tell her; he didn't want to tell anyone, but even in his most panicked moments his resolve didn't waiver. Somehow, he'd just have to do it.

Not that it was going to change how things ended. He wasn't  _that_  delusional.

All it changed was the path that took him there.

At least  _this_ path didn't involve lying to her, deceiving her. The thought of telling her the truth scared the shit out of him, but it was better than his other master plan, putting April through the trauma of thinking he just didn't want to be her friend anymore. For that, if nothing else, it was the right decision, the  _only_  decision now that he had stopped blocking the possibility.

And she wouldn't tell anyone, if he asked her not to. He knew her well enough by now to know that. Casey would never know. His family would never know.

_Neater all around, really,_  he thought with another painful squeeze of his heart.

Raphael sighed again and stopped the music, dropping his headphones beside the beanbag chair. Time for a bathroom break. And maybe something to drink. The lair was quiet, Master Splinter having retired to his quarters, and his brothers having gone out for a bit of fun topside. He, of course, was banned for the weekend, which was actually fine by him. He wasn't in the mood anyway.

It wasn't until he returned to his room and automatically checked his phone that he noticed he had missed a call earlier. Seventeen minutes earlier, to be exact.

_April  
_ _Missed Call & Voicemail_

Seeing her name on the display made his gut twist, and at first all of the usual emotions came flooding back. Anxiety. Longing. And above all, guilt, because he knew he  _shouldn't_  call her back, and he wanted to. So fucking badly.

But then… what did it matter now?

If it was all going to be over soon, and she was going to know the truth, what was the point of avoiding her? It couldn't possibly make things any more difficult than they were already going to be.

He had to tell her soon. He knew that. But even an insensitive prick like him knew this wasn't something you said over the phone. No, much as it sucked, it had to be in person. The next time he saw her, he would tell her… somehow… even though the mere thought of it made him want to throw up. But then it would be over. Sure, they would still see each other; they were family after all. But she would agree with him that they would have to stop hanging out.

His chest compressed even more at the thought of how things were about to change. It was gonna be tough to see her, even casually, and she'd probably feel too awkward around him anyway, so their contact would dwindle to a quick, awkward hello when they crossed paths, with Raphael doing his best to avoid anything more prolonged than that. Jeezus fuck this was gonna hurt...

He missed her already.

Raphael squeezed his eyes shut, and then opened them to look at the phone display once more.

_April_  
_Missed Call & Voicemail_

His hand tightened on the phone.

Fuck it, then. Fuck it  _all_. Soon, too soon, she would know the truth, and everything they had would be over. But now, right this fucking moment, they were still friends, and he was gonna  _be_ her friend, for whatever time they had left.

He pulled in a deep, steadying breath, and then lowered himself back onto his beanbag. Once settled, he listened to the brief message she had left, and then before he could overthink it, hit the button to call her back. His stomach tumbled nervously, but underneath that was an odd sort of calm, not so different from the way he felt when he knew no matter how hard he fought, he was gonna lose a battle. There was clarity in that, and a strange peace in knowing that though the ending was inevitable, he could still choose how he went down.

-=-=-=-=-=-


End file.
